


57 Ways To Dump A Man

by Two_Guns_And_A_Knife



Category: Stephanie Plum - Janet Evanovich
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-23
Updated: 2013-06-18
Packaged: 2017-11-16 21:33:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 57
Words: 35,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/544061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Two_Guns_And_A_Knife/pseuds/Two_Guns_And_A_Knife
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of quirky little one-chapter stories. If you believe a hairy man who has once cuffed a woman to her shower curtain rod and trashed her apartment deserves to be happy, you'd better not read this story. Babe HEA, of course. Theme Song: Don't You Want Me by The Human League.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One For The Zombie

**One For The Zombie  
**

He wakes up in his death.

He lets out a low ragged moan and for the very first time senses the burning hunger deep down within. Brains, he craves for brains. Warm, gooey, bloody, fresh human brains. Yes, he used to be a tall dark movie star handsome hairy man, but now he has become a zombie. He doesn't care about "why". He doesn't want to know "how". His brain cells are already dead. He is a walking corpse. He is a monster of the night. He is a creature of darkness. He is a greyish green zombie. He won't feel pain. He won't feel ashamed. He doesn't remember who killed him: He doesn't care. He won't want to revenge. He just wants brains. He wants to chew a human head open. He wants to stick out his decomposing tongue to lick, and then sucks out the soft creamy yummy greyish pink brain inside the cracked-open skull. Sweet, fluffy, pudding-like brains. His sole addiction. The only meaning and purpose of his miserable existence.

He leers, and showed his off-white, uneven teeth. He tries to move and break away from his confining bondage. He fails. He tries again, and fails again. He has lost the ability to feel confused the moment that silvery cake knife stabbed through his heart and killed him on the spot. He didn't even have time to ask Stephanie "Why, Cupcake? Why?" before she packed a bag, grabbed Rex, and fled. He didn't scowl when the blonde gorilla named Hal, one of Ranger's thugs, let himself in, squatted down beside him, checked his vital signs, made a couple calls, and left. He didn't protest when the RangeMan clean-up team silently arrived and set to work immediately. He couldn't. Even if he wanted to. He was already dead. He was lying stark naked on Stephanie's floor, with a hot pink bubble gum flavored condom in his hand. He'd been so sure she would fall madly in love with all the little knobs.

Oh boy was he wrong.

Blood was everywhere. He will never know why Stephanie was so mad. He will never know he'd made the biggest mistake in his life. He was no longer alive. He was but something that needed to be hide, to bury, to destroy, to be made disappear. And now here he is. A hungry zombie. A living dead. A supernatural phenomenon. A decomposing human remain trapped inside a huge block of concrete sunk at the bottom of the cold merciless sea. Deep-sea creatures flow past him. Nuclear submarines sail overhead above him. Stephanie and Rex are living happily with Ranger. The RangeMan clean-up team know what they are doing. Hal gets a call from his petite fiancée and blushes fiercely. Bob the dog sniffs the scent of tomato sauce inside Mrs. Morelli's living room and once again starts howling. Grandma Bella murmurs to herself and places the Eye on Snooki. Joe Morelli, the world's most unfortunate zombie, tries to move and break away from his confining bondage. And fails. And fails. And fails. And fails.

"Cupcake..." He moans.

"Cupcake..." He groans.

"Cupcake..." He drools.

"Cupcake..." He struggles in vain against his destiny. "Yuuuuuuuuum..."

And some poor souls think he's happily married to his high school sweet heart, the cold-eyed mob Barbie, Terry...


	2. Two Boxes Of Bullets

**Two Boxes Of Bullets  
**

"I have proof you killed Abruzzi." The tall dark lean muscled man sneers through tightly clenched teeth. "And you won't get away this time, Manoso."

He takes a step closer to the tall dark still silhouette, his movie star handsome face contorted. The contempt and resentment in his chocolate-colored eyes are as chill as the midnight autumn wind. "I have given you enough warnings. I have warned you to stay away from Stephanie. I have told you to stay out of my business. But you are just too stupid to listen, aren't you?" He narrows his eyes, balls his fists, and almost bares his teeth. He can feel the rush of adrenaline through his body. Yes, he's all too ready to close in for the kill, but he wants to take his time and prolong the suffering. He wants to tease and to torment his arrogant and unwelcome challenger. He wants to bring that crazy mercenary down to his knees. He wants to make the goddamn Cuban bastard to taste fear and admit defeat.

"You see, I have it all planned. All I have to is snap my fingers and you will be squashed like a bug." He grants the silent man a generous smile. He feels like a hunter on a safari aiming his gun at a rabid lion. He knows he's doing the whole fucking society a service. In no time at all the streets of Trenton will be safer. The ex-military thugs and ex-gangsters won't last long without their sly shady leader. And his on-and-off blue-eyed wild-haired girlfriend will crawl back to his bed and finally know her rightful place and learn her lesson.

"But I am a good decent man. And tonight, I am feeling generous." His smile grows into a smirk. A sense of victory swells up and swirls within his chest. He looks straight into those cold dark brown eyes and for the very first time feels no fear. Oh yes, he's got the upper hand. He's the one who's calling the shots here. And soon he will get what he wants and become the sole winner of this endless game. "Get your ass out of Trenton and don't ever come back. You've got 1 day to pack and leave. Keep your dirty paws to yourself and erase yourself from Stephanie's life. If I find out that you get in touch with Stephanie by any means, I'll—"

He didn't get the chance to finish the sentence. He might or might not feel the slicing burning pain in his head and chest as the 2 bullets shot through his heart and brain. He didn't even have time to widen his eyes. He just staggered backward, fell to the ground, and then died without a sound. He had been a bossy cocky police detective for too long. He had crossed a line that should never be crossed. He had been blinded by his anger, frustration, and desire. He had forged the evidence and planned to plant it on his cold-blooded, calculating, manipulating, invincible opponent.

And he had also forgotten who he was dealing with.

Several tall muscular men step out of the darkness and start cleaning up the scene. The calm silent tall dark handsome drops his gun in a bag and hands it to one of his men. He's not only their boss but also their brother and friend. They are all perfectly trained and expertly experienced. They leave no trace behind. They have been through Hell together. They have saved each other's sanity and live for countless times. They don't appreciate to be treated like trash or threatened. They happen to know just the perfect spot to dump a dead man. And yes, he will never be found.

Their leader's cell phone vibrates. He knows who's calling at this hour. He knows she gets lonely whenever he's late. He knows she just wants to hear his voice. He knows soon she'll hung up, let out a sigh, and bites her lip. He smiles and holds the phone to his ear.

"Babe," He softly says.


	3. Three Monkey Plams

**Three Monkey Plams  
**

He closes his eyes, lets of a small sigh, and dreams a dream. He is flying, and floating, in the blue cloudless sky. He feels so light and so free. Everything is so quiet and so bright. He looks up but can't see the sun. He feels the wind in his face. He smiles a hearty smile, all his burdens, worries, and pain forgotten. But somehow he still remebers his name. Yes, he always knows he's handsome, dark, and tall. He can be charming whenever he wishes. And he always gets what he wants. He never claims to be normal. He's not exactly kind or nice. He vaguely remembers his dark shady past. A brutal father. A submissive mother. A not very smart elder brother and too many naughty, nasty cousins. He also has a sister, he thinks, and a dog, and a house, and a car, and a job, and...a gun? Yes, a gun. The gun he didn't have the chance to use when the blazing bullet tore through his heart and killed him on the spot...

Yes, he's dead.

He was killed by the woman he thought and still thinks he loves. The rage and pain in her stunning blue eyes disarmed him. The Gloak in her hands took him by surprise. He tried to blink. He tried to call her name. But he didn't need to ask her why. He'd killed the man they both knew she loved. He'd shot him from behind. He'd seen the tall dark muscular man fall to the cold hard ground before driving away from the crime scene in the pouring rain. He'd smelled the rusty scent of the warm Cuban blood. He remembers. He laughs. Oh yes, unlike his brother, he's pretty heartless and smart. A bullet the heart from behind the back. A perfect revenge. A most deserved payback. No one steals from him. No one. Whoever snatches his Cupcake away from him shall pay the price. He had it all planned out. He had the evidence all wiped out. He knows he has left no trace behind. How did Stephanie find out? He had just stepped out of his shower when she appeared in front of his eyes with that gun in her slightly shaking hands. He'd just killed her mentor, her friend, the love of her life. He'd planned to sit down on his couch, turn on his TV, drink his cold beer, chew his pizza, and watch a ball game to celebrate Ranger's death.

But his Stephanie, his Cupcake, his currently "off" girlfriend shot him through his heart and rained on his parade.

He lets out a sigh. The air suddenly turns cold. The sky suddenly turns dark. And an unseen formidable force grasps hold of him and starts pulling him downward. He tries to scream. He tries to yell. He feels cold and lonely. He feels the blinding pain. He feels the unbearable hurt. He feels the burning humiliation. He chokes on his murderous anger. It wasn't his fault. She shouldn't have left him. She shouldn't have gone to Ranger. She shouldn't have spent the night in Ranger's bed. She shouldn't have accepted Ranger's Halloween gift. She shouldn't have worn it around her white slender neck. She shouldn't have shown the whole damn world that fucking diamond and topaz Tiffany Key.

With an inaudible thud he drops from the sky and lands on the earth. He opens his eyes and immediately sees those familiar muscular men clad in black and the motionless body of a man at their feet. He recognizes his own hairy naked body. He starts to panic. He fears the coldness of the concrete. He fears the merciless sea. He tries to run but can not move. He tries to shout but makes no sound. He has no idea where he is. He doesn't know how much time has passed. He's flowing along with a river. He hears the silence coming from the barge. He senses the presence lurking under the murky water. He smells the scent of wilderness and death in the midnight air. He stares in terror as one by one, piece by piece, different parts of his body are thrown into the dangerous river and devoured by hungry greedy gators. He feels like he's watching a sick, twisted version of Peter Pan. He wants to laugh. He wants to scream. He wants to tell himself this isn't real. He's not dead. He's still alive. This is a dream. A terrible horrible most unpleasant dream. Stephanie will be by his side in his bed when he wakes up. She will smile at him and tell him she loves him and wants to marry him and bear him children. They will spend the rest of their lives together. They will be happily ever after. And Ranger will still be dead, dead, dead.

The very last piece of his chopped up torso falls inot the gaping waiting mouth of a cold-blooded gator. A bottomless hole appears out of thin air in the middle of the river. The irresistibly strong force pulls him toward the hole. No no no it wasn't his fault. He just wants to be happy. He just wants Stephanie. He just wants Ranger out of his way. He had it all planned. He has gotten rid of that unregistered gun on his way home. He's sure there's no witness. He didn't personally check but he knew Ranger was dead. He will appear on Stephanie's door step when her sorrow ebbs with his most charming smile, a bunch of red, red roses, and a shining diamond ring. He will make her forget her lost love in no time at all. He will make her let go of her memories and move on with him. Ranger is already dead. She is still alive. She is still young and beautiful. There's no reason for her to spend the rest of her life in loneliness and sadness. She will see to reason. Her mother will make her see to reason. They will get married. They will soon have babies. And she will forget everything, everything, about Ranger...

The invisible force drags him toward the hole. He tries to fight. He tries to resist. He tries to scream for help. The barge sails away. The gators submerge under the water. He falls into the hole. He keeps falling and falling and falling. The hole closes up and disappears. Everything is peaceful. Everything is quiet. The men in black remain silent. Thye know how to keep a secret. The gators go back to sleep. The frogs croak. The wind sighs. The stars blink. Miles and miles and miles away, a wild-haired blue-eyed woman says another prayer. The tall dark handsome man slowly wakes up in the hospital bed. The woman lets out a sob and calls his name. The nurses run. The doctors come. The man named Tank smiles a wide happy smile as his boss and best friend, Ranger, takes hold of Stephanie's hand and softly says:

"Babe,"

Their Happily Ever After has just begun.


	4. Four To Nothing

**Four To Nothing  
**

He drinks himself away. The everlasting pain within his chest feels raw and refuses to relent. He can't sleep at night. He tosses and turns in his cold lonely bed. He knows he will dream of her. And once he dreams of her, he knows he's gonna cry. He never knew it would hurt this much. He thought losing her would be no big deal. Now he's afraid even to close his eyes. He sees her smiling face and bright blue eyes whenever he closes his eyes. He hears her crystal laughter whenever he unlocks his heavy front wishes he can forget that summer day. The sun was high, the wind was blowing in from the sea and thus tasted salty. He knew she would say yes should he propose right there on the afternoon beach, but for some reason he hesitated. He wasn't sure if he really wanted to get married. He was used to his simple and carefree lifestyle. He was already a happy man. He just had to walk and feed Bob and wait for the pizza boy or the Chinese takeout guy. He didn't have to worry about her all the time: Ranger was always there to save her butt and lighten up the day; sleek shining black cars would materialize out of nowhere whenever her car got blown up. He could have her in his bed while Ranger and his muscular dangerous(and probably demented) men helped her out and kept her safe. So he swallowed the words back down and bought her an ice cream cone instead. Salted caramel and mixed nuts. He will always remember that flavor till the day he grows too tired to live and finally dies.

He thought he had time. He was not yet 35; he could wait a couple years to have kids. He would pop the question when she got older and ready to settle down. He knew for a fact that she knew her clock was ticking. Her mother had been applying more pressure. He wouldn't have to wait too long. She could get a wedding dress on Black Friday the year after next. It would be much cheaper. He would let her worry about the church, the wedding reception hall, the flower arrangement, and the guest list. He would see if he could lay his hands on Grandma Bella's antique wedding ring. He could use the his money on more worthwhile stuff such as a new TV or a new iMac. Yes, he had it all planned. Then one day out of the blue things suddenly changed.

Ranger got shot trying to protect her, and he almost died in her arms while waiting for the ambulance to arrive. It was all her fault. She was, as usual, being stubborn and careless. And her foolish mistake almost cost Ranger his life. She broke down and cried. She wouldn't talk to anyone. She wouldn't leave Ranger's side. She sat in the waiting room, shaking. She looked sorrowful and scared. She was covered in Ranger's blood. She didn't even look at him when he rushed to the hospital and tried to take her home. She didn't even respond to his voice when he called her "Cupcake", her favorite nickname. She just sat there grabbing hold of Tank's arm. As if he didn't exist. At that moment a little voice in his head told him he had lost the everlasting cat and mouse game. He knew it was telling the truth but still he refused to believe. He would give her some time, he decided. Maybe Ranger would die. Maybe one of Ranger's other women would arrive. Maybe Ranger would wake up and get mad and and eventually tell her to quit her job and get lost.

She would finally realize what a burden she had been to Ranger. He would open his arms and welcome her back with his warmest, most harming smile. Ranger would be out of her life. Forever. And everyone would be back to their rightful places. She would learn to be happy and contented. She would stop dreaming all those impossible dreams. They would settle down, get married, and start making kids. No, there was nothing to worry about. Yes, he would give Stephanie all the time she wanted. So he turned around and left the hospital. So he started wondering if he should pray for Ranger's death or recovery. Stephanie might be in love with Ranger. But she was not, and would never be, the right kind of woman a mercenary needed. Soon she would be rejected. Once again she would knock on his door and come back to him. She always come back to him. She always, always did. And maybe, just maybe, Ranger wouldn't make it. And she would have no choice but to return to him...

He started praying for his happiness on the drive home. He had never ever prayed so hard in his life before. He knew Ranger was the one who took Abruzzi's life. An eye for an eye. A tooth for a tooth. Even the most nasty and heinous criminal deserved a fair trial. Maybe now was the time for Karma to catch up and make Ranger pay the price. He prayed and prayed and prayed. He waited and waited and waited. He wanted to go back to the hospital. He was too afraid to go back to the hospital. He wanted to make sure Stephanie was alright. He was too afraid to see the fear and love and pain in Stephanie's teary eyes. The little voice in his head sighed. He closed his eyes and covered his ears. He fed Bob and took him out for a walk. He ordered pizza and Chinese and washed the food down with beer. He turned on his TV. He watched the Yankees lose. He went upstairs to sleep. He woke up, took a shower and went to work. He didn't call Stephanie. He didn't ask anyone about Ranger. He ate his doughnuts and drank his coffee. He chased bad guys and brought them to justice. He went to his mother's to have went home and watched a late-night movie on cable. He yawned, rubbed his eyes, and went to bed. His day ended and started again 7 hours later. He lived his life and said his prayers. But Stephanie didn't back and Ranger didn't die.

And now here he is. All alone in his nice cozy lovely 2-story house. He doesn't know what exactly happened. He just knows that Stephanie moved in with Ranger when he was finally discharged by the hospital. She never changes her phone number. But he's still too afraid to call her and ask her why. He knows why. He was there in the hospital waiting room when she cried. He was there by her side when she told Tank she would kill herself if Ranger died. And she didn't even look up at him. She didn't even hear his pleading voice. She treated him like he didn't exist.

 _Well, I told you._ The little voice in his head whispers in his ears. _She's in love with him. All she wants is him. All she needs is him. The two of you were nothing but fuck buddies. You never loved her enough. She never wanted your love. She had been in love with him for were never the one she truly wanted._ He sinks onto the couch and says nothing. He's known all along he would not be the winner of the cat and mouse game. He was just too proud to admit it. He is just too proud to let go of Stephanie. He's not sure if he really loved her. He doesn't know if he still loves her. Maybe he's just afraid of loneliness. Maybe he just wants to be with someone safe and familiar. Maybe he never wants to be a father. Maybe he never wants to get married. Maybe he just wants to prove to the world that he has overcome the infamous Morelli Curse. Maybe he just...maybe he just... _  
_

He holds his head in his hands and stops thinking. He tries his best to ignore the hollow feeling within his chest. He closes his eyes and listens to Bob's even breathing. It's almost 5 in the afternoon. Somewhere down the quiet narrow street a little child start crying. _If only you knew what you wanted._ The little voice softly says. _If only you knew what you wanted._


	5. Highway No. 5

****Highway No. 5** **

I love her. I really do.

I never meant to wave my arms and yell at her in public. I never meant to make her feel timid and small and stupid.

I just want her to be safe.

I just need her to be safe.

I just wish one day she will see to reason and embrace her true inner self.

I just wish one day she'll wake up and finally realize how childish and immature she is.

I just wish one day she will know her limits and come back to her rightful place.

She needs to grow up. She needs to be smart. She needs to stop being the Queen of Denial.

We are a match made in heaven. We will be happy together. We will both be contented and fulfilled.

We will have wonderful amazing kids. We will walk the dog and play in the yard. We will be surrounded by love.

We will be just like everyone else.

I will bring home bread and bacon. She will read a story to our children and make the world's best pasta.

I have faith in her. She's her mother's daughter.

She will learn to make the most perfect pot roast, gravy, pineapple upside-down cake, and mashed potatoes.

She will keep our lovely 2-story house tidy, cozy, and clean.

She will be the best wife ever.

She will be the best mom ever.

She will be my darling sweet fluffy airy Cupcake forever.

She will be.

She will.

She will let me love her and love me back.

She won't call me a hairy jerk.

She won't call me a selfish prick.

She won't hate me for cuffing her naked to her shower curtain rod. She won't mind I trashing her stuff.

She will forgive me for trying to slap her when they let me out of the meat truck.

She will know I had every reason in the world to be mad.

She will understand my frustration.

She will accept my shortcomings and flaws.

She will love me for not being perfect.

She will shrug her shoulder, kiss me on my lips and let bygone be bygone.

She won't tell me she resents me for all the things I did to her.

She won't tell me she hates herself for always letting me have my way with her.

She won't tell me she thinks we are not right for each other.

She won't tell me our relationship is sick and not healthy.

She won't tell me our history makes her feel cheap and easy.

She won't tell me she's just realized she doesn't love me.

She won't tell me she doesn't want me.

She won't tell me she doesn't need me.

She won't tell me I've never loved her.

She won't tell me I should've been the one to help her out, to save her butt, to bleed money and blood to keep her safe.

She won't tell me we are but friends with benefits.

She won't tell me there will be no future between us.

She won't tell me she can't spend the rest of her life with someone who doesn't love her for what she is.

She won't tell me she's in love with someone else. For years.

She won't tell me I know that someone else. For years.

She won't put my keys on the table and say, "Goodbye, Joe" as if nothing ever happened and we are nothing.

She won't stand up from the table and walk out of Pino's, her extra cheesy pizza, beer and meatball sub untounched.

She won't get in that tacky overpriced German car.

There won't be a loud flasy diamond ring on her slender hand.

People won't look at me like I am something escaped from Circus De Freaks.

And I won't be tasting my hot burning salty tears.

I won't be.

I won't.

I won't...

This is not happening.

This isn't real.

This has to be a dream.

A dream.

A dream.

A dream...

And I never believed when they said love will break your heart.


	6. Savvy Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In celebration of the publication of [Notorious Nineteen].  
> May truth, love, and peace prevail.  
> May all the women in this world be treated with love and respect.  
> May all the child molesters rot in Hell.

****Savvy Six** **

She raises her gun and pulls the trigger. She has had enough. The bullet races forward and penetrates the target. The smell of gunpowder spreads in the air. Blood. And then death. Her friends widens their eyes and stare. She takes a deep long breath and relaxes her shoulders. Yeah, she killed him, out of a fit of simple rage. Of course it wasn't her fault. He got what he deserved. She had warned and warned and warned him, but her never ever listened. He never took her seriously. He only had himself to blame. He shouldn't have thought of her as a joke. He should have showed some respect for her profession. She is an independent grown woman. She is not a plaything. She is not a sex tool. She is the one and only rightful owner of her body. And when she says "No", it means "No". She didn't appreciate the way he treated her in public. She's not a hooker. She's not a sex slave. She is an educated modern woman living in the 21st century. She deserves proper respect. It's not fun to be molested at the age of 6. It's not romantic to hear the whole city talking about how you lost your virginity and how soft and moist and tight you were. It's actually humiliating and borderline creepy when the man you thought you loved told you time and time again how the image of you being cuffed naked to your shower curtain rod turned him on. This is your life, not a pron movie. The history between you and the man you thought you loved shouldn't left you scarred and traumatized. He should have listened to her. He should have turned away and walked out of her life. He should have respected and accepted her decision. He should have said goodbye and wished her a happy life when she said for the 13th time it was over between them. he shouldn't have taken that step forward. He shouldn't have told her, "It ain't over till I say it's over, Cupcake" in that cocky taunting tone. He shouldn't have reached out his hairy hand and hooked a finger into the collar of her chic black blouse and peeked at her breasts. He shouldn't have smirked and leaned in to whisper in her ear, "The boys miss you, Cupcake". He was lucky she chose to shoot him between his melted chocolate bedroom eyes instead of chopping off his head with a machete.

Her weasel of a cousin sticks his head out of his office, sees the dead body on the floor, rolls his eyes, and says, "Geez". Connie rushes from behind her desk to lock the front door of the bonds office. Lula places a hand over her heart and says she needs 2 more dozens of fresh fried doughnuts. She calmly takes out her phone and speed-dials the familiar number. She lets out a sigh and nonchalantly(well, she tries as hard as she can) says, "Boston, we have a problem."

And the man she now knows she truly loves and wants to share a life with almost smiles. "Babe,"


	7. Seven Tears

**Seven Tears  
**

He dreams a happy dream. He forgets the November rain. He follows his silent heart. He plays with the sand of time. He walks through his memories. He sees his loved one's eyes. He hears his daughter smile. He watches the sun go by. He doesn't feel his pain. He chooses his lonely road. He likes the color black. He looks down at his bloody hands. He hears someone cry. He knows he's in a dream. He knows he will soon wake lets out a soft deep sigh. He opens his dark brown eyes.

A slender woman unlocks his door and steps in his dark apartment. She kicks off her shoes, drops the bags in her hands and puts an old aquarium on his kitchen counter. She's wearing a cute little black tank top and a pair of old jeans. Her hair is wild and free. She has been crying. She doesn't bother to wipe away her melted mascara. She knows she looks like a panda. She is beyond caring. The diamond ring on her hand flashes as it catches a ray of light.

"Babe," He leans against his bedroom door frame and quietly says. "You can't run to me every time you have a fight with Morelli."

She bites her lower lip and refuses to look at him.

"You accepted his ring. You are going to get married in 5 weeks." His voice is as soft and calm as always.

She lowers her head. Another drop of tear rolls down her cheek.

"You said this is what you want. You want to settle down, start a family, and be happy." He walks up to her and cups her teary face in his gentle hands. "You said you want to be Mrs. Joe Morelli. You said you love him."

But she knows she was lying.

She didn't mean to give in. She didn't believe Friday night movie date could change anything. But all the pressure and frustration had been eating her, and the disappointment in her mother's eyes was too overwhelming. And somehow she really, really wanted to believe the "changed man" theory. Joe was a mean nasty boy but he isn't a bad man. Everybody has done something stupid. He has grown up and matured. He's now a different man. He yells because he cares. He just wants her to be safe. He loves her. He really does. He has a respectable job. He has a dog and a house. He's good-looking. He's Catholic. He's Italian. He's white. He's familiar. They are perfect for each other. What happened between she and Joe was special. He had had his eyes on her since they were both little kids because they are meant to be together. She needed to believe something. She didn't want to feel stupid. She was not defending her molester. She was not a victim of Stockholm Syndrome. And she never had the courage to step out of her comfort zone.

So she said yes the Friday night Joe proposed. She gave up her apartment and moved in that nice cozy 2-story house. They agreed that she will quit her job once she gets pregnant. Her mother broke down in happy tears. Everybody said they were happy for her. But nothing has ever changed. They still fight like a pair of pit bulls from time to time. And she has been using Ranger's apartment as her temporary shelter. This is her third trip here in the past 6 months. She can't blame Ranger for getting tired of her cliché.

"You have to make your final decision, Stephanie." Ranger's hands feel warm and rough against her skin. "This is not healthy." He kisses her on the top of her head and lets go of her. He opens the refrigerator for a bottle of water and drops several blueberries for Rex.

Stephanie stands there feeling lonely and cold. She looks down at the ring around her finger. It is loud and flashy and quite expensive. It makes all her friends "Ah" and "Wow". It keeps Bella from giving her the Eye. It keeps her mother off her back. It makes Joe smile his charming smile every time he takes hold of her hand. But she doesn't even like its style. She flat-out hates its design. And somehow she feels more and more like it's choking her. She wants to be happy. She wants to be free. She wants to climb on top of a highest mountain and shout at the top of her lungs. She just wants to love and be loved.

She turns around and looks at Ranger. She watches the ripple of his muscles as he drinks the water. She knows his broad shoulders. She knows his lean waist. She knows the smoothness of his flawless skin. She knows the touch of his perfect lips. She knows his silence. She knows his smile. She knows he loves her in his own way. And she misses him like Hell.

Ranger turns his attention to her and raises his brow a fraction. She looks straight into his eyes and sees the man that has always been there. If she leaves now. If she stays. Does she want a ring? Does she want love? Or does she want something else? She has to make her decision now. And there won't be turning back.

Stephanie's hand moves to her ring and stays there for a long, long while. Then very slowly she takes it off. Ranger stays where he is. She turns and walks into his dark bedroom. She heads for his clean spacious bathroom. She smells the familiar scent of his shower gel. She sees her brush, his razor and their toothbrushes. She still has clothes and shoes in his closet. Sometimes she will sleep on his side of the bed when she's in a particular mood. Sometimes she talks in her dreams but he never snores. She lowers her eyes and looks at the ring in her palm. She extends her arm and drops her engagement ring in the toilet. She reaches out a hand and flushes the toilet. She frowns a little as the ring disappears. She knows she's going to be in a hell of trouble. Blood is gonna flow. Heads are gonna roll. But what has been done can not be undone. And she feels so relieved and so happy and so free.

She turns off the light and walks out of the bathroom. Ranger is on his side of the bed. His eyes move to her hand but he doesn't say anything. She squares her shoulders and exhales the long held breath. She smiles a little bit awkwardly and finally bravely asks:

"Do you want to discuss rent?"

Stephanie Plum has made her final decision. She wants love, not a lie/ring.


	8. Silent Eight

**Silent Eight**

It rains all day and I become moody. I still care. I wish I can change. And I want to be happy. I look at myself in the mirror. I can't even smile. I know I am feeling lonely. I never catalog myself as a slut or a bitch. But from time to time I want to yell and pull at my hair and blame myself for everything. Yes, it was all my fault. I have made too many mistakes. I am too lazy to tell the difference. I am too chicken to change. I know I need to find myself a back bone. I know I need to grow a brain. I am too much like a stupid child. I am too stubborn to say "I can't" and "I am sorry". I just keep on lying. It's simple and much easier.

I catch a glimpse of the sorrow in my eyes and it stares right back at me. Blank, and emotionless. Oh yeah, I am in denial. It's an old trick I master. I can always close my eyes and pretend. I can always fake. I can always put on my new cute little black dress and sexy boots. I can always put on my lip gloss and 2 layers of mascara. I can always tell impeccable lies. I am such a good actress that I don't even blink. But my heart knows the truth and it won't stop crying blood. I hate this weather. I hate this coldness. I hate myself for being such a coward. I hate myself for being a hypocrite. I hate hating myself. I am too tired to care. I just want to be loved. Is it too much to ask?

Tonight I have a date. Pizza. Movie. Beer. Familiar kinky sex. Just like Jersey Shore. For I am a Jersey girl. I know how to run my hand down a hairy chest. I know how to ignore garlic breath. I know when to close my eyes and tilt back my head. I know when to moan. I always have perfect timing. I try my best not to forget my pill. Sometimes I will also take a couple morning after pills just to be sure. I pull my hair back into a ponytail. I wish I know what I am doing. I am in a serious relationship and my mother is happy. For herself? Or for me?

I feel like laughing. I am such a phony. I am no better than the stupid women written by those untalented paperback romance writers. I am cheap and easy. I am familiar and convenient. I am no trouble at all. I have learned to give in. Children. House chores. Marriage. Ordinary. Average. Safe. Simple. Normal. Exchanging vows. Growing old together. Till the day I die. Bounty hunter from Hell. Wonder Woman my ass. A Burg house, after all. Just like my mom. Just like everyone else. Eat, drink, sleep, sex. And then die. I laugh out loud. I laugh so hard that I cry. I wipe away my tears. I wipe away my makeup. I blow my nose. I look at myself in the mirror. I look miserable. I look sad. I look like a 30-something confused woman. I am unhappy. I am lonely. My heart is bleeding. A part of my soul runs away screaming. My tears return. I will be late for my date.

I put on my new cute little black sexy dress. I put on my black sexy boots. I let my hair down. I grab my bag. I stand in the middle of my small living room. I have been living here for many years. This place is full of memories. Dark ones. Happy ones. Meaningless ones. Unforgettable ones. My crappy couch. My wobbly coffee table. My worn threadbare carpet. The things I want and the things I desire. The things I need and the things I don't have. My never-ending lies.

I lock my door. I start my car. I wait for the red light. I feel the evening air against my skin. I can drive all the way to New York. I can drive all the way to Philly. That's not where my heart is, but I don't feel like stopping. I am not young any more. The clock won't stop ticking. And I am afraid to be alone. I don't want to wake up one day and find I am old and lonely. I want to be happy. I want to have someone by my side. I want to have kids. I want to make sacrifices and all the necessary changes. I am just a woman. I have my dreams, my hopes, and my fears. I want my life to be something. I can't be a bounty hunter forever. I need something steady and more permanent. I need a shoulder to cry on. I need someone to lean on. I need someone to hold me in his arms and tell me everything's gonna be alright. I need to spend the rest of my life with someone I know and love and trust. I want to love him with all my heart. And I need him to love me back.

I take the turn. I stop the car. I square my shoulder and brace myself. I unlock his door. I close the door behind me. He looks up at me from the couch. The TV is not on. I take a long deep breath. He raises a brow. He doesn't smile. He knows I am not supposed to be here. He knows I have a date with another man. I blink twice. I tell myself not to bite my lips. I know I have to be brave. I am my own woman. I know what I need. I know whom I love. I don't want my life to be a blank. I don't want to have any regrets. It's okay if he doesn't want kids. But I want to be a part of his life. I walk toward him. I know he likes my dress. I know he likes my boots. I know my eyes are all puffy and swollen. I also know I am probably as pale as a zombie. I've got to take the chance.

"I need a date." I tell him as calmly as I can. My eyes never leave his. "And I love you."

He almost smiles. His eyes soften. "Babe,"

How can you love someone so deeply?


	9. 9 To 5

**9 To 5  
**

"Babe," He looks into her eyes and calmly says. "I need a date."

"Okay." She widens her eyes and bravely says, her voice barely a whisper.

He knows what he needs.

She knows what she wants.

Joe Morelli is irrelevant.


	10. Ten Fire Dancers

**Ten Fire Dancers**

It was a late Saturday night or an early Sunday morning. Everything was cold and quiet. Icy rain kept falling from the darkness moonless sky. The street was deserted. She sat inside the silent car, trying her best not to fidget or squirm. She was anxious, and a little bit tired and frightened. She sneaked another peek at the man besides her. He looked as yummy and dangerous as ever. She let out a secret sigh. She wished he could say something. Anything would do under this current circumstance, as a matter of fact. She stifled a sudden yawn. She had a thousand questions. But she wasn't sure if she would ever be ready for those answers. She was afraid they might lead to a series of disappointments. And that would definitely kill her. All of a sudden she thought of his feet. He had well-shaped nice-looking feet, his toes lean and strong. They looked good in anything: boots, loafers, sneakers, sandals and socks. Her own feet, on the other hand, were too pale and too thin compared to his. There was a tiny scar on the inside of his left ankle. A souvenir from the war, he'd once told her. A roadside bomb had caused the damage. A couple people had been killed that day and several wounded. He still remembered the blazing sun, the hot merciless wind, and, of course, the smell of burned human flesh and too much blood.

"Only the dead have seen the end of war, babe." His voice had been calm and soft, his eyes gentle and dark. And his undetectable sadness had almost made her cry.

She lowered her eyes and bit her lip. Not 3 hours ago the other man in her life had gotten down on one knee and proposed with a diamond ring. It was moderately-priced and nothing fancy, but the smile in those melted chocolate eyes was warm and genuine. She had gaped and stared at that familiar handsome 5 o'clock shadowed face for 2 whole minutes before she'd jumped to her feet and fled the crowded pizzeria like a thief. She had caught a glance of an average nice future life, and she didn't like what she had seen. It was pretty, cozy, and tempting. It was many girls' dream. But it was not what she really wanted. She needed something and someone else. She'd turned off her phone and driven through the night with no specific destination in mind. She had no idea whatsoever where she was, but once again the man she truly loved had managed to find her. She knew he had been in the middle of something when he'd set out to track her down. She hated herself for always being his burden. But she couldn't stop wanting to cling to him for the rest of her life. She loved him too much. She didn't want to let go and watch him move on. She knew she was being selfish, but there was nothing she could do. Love is both a bliss and a curse. She just wanted to be a permanent part of his life no matter what.

Ranger started the engine of his brand new sleek black Porsche 911 Turbo S Cabriolet. Stephanie wondered if his invisible scar still hurt sometimes. Together they headed back to Trenton. The familiar Chevrolet Tahoe was parked in front of the RangeMan building. Joe Morelli stepped out his navy blue SUV. Stephanie winced and cringed a little at the sight of the unhappy 4th generation Italian American. Ranger pulled the Porsche to a stop.

"Do you want to marry him, Stephanie?" His beautiful dark brown eyes looked straight into Stephanie's soul. Without blinking she vigorously shook her head. Her hair danced wildly around her face, her eyes as deep as deep blue ocean. Ranger lowered the car window. Joe Morelli stayed where he was and didn't walk over.

"She has made her choice, Morelli."


	11. The 11th Night

**The 11th Night  
**

They have an epic fight in front of everyone inside Pino's. All the feelings and affections they have for each other crack, shatter, and then start to crumble. Too many hurtful words are exchanged, too many false accusations carelessly thrown. They have been trying to solve all their problems. They have been trying to build a future together. They have been trying to forget all their differences. They have been trying to settle with what they have. They are both in their 30. They share an ugly history. They both have doubtful reputations. They have been trying really hard to make things work. They are both too proud and too stubborn. They both hear the Clock ticking. They both feel the growing pressure from their mothers. They are starting to worry and feel the heat. They don't have the same dreams. They don't want the same things. They are not each other's first choice. They are both secretly in love with someone else. And they both hate themselves for not having the courage to go after the forbidden love.

They like each other. They tolerate each other. They have sex and make not so funny jokes. They drink beer, eat pizza, and watch TV. They sometimes talk about having kids and all kinds of boring things. But do they love each other? Are they in love with each other? They have doubts, but they never ask the Million Dollar Question. They are scared shitless of what they may find out. They both feel insecure and frustrated. They are both good liars and actors. They both wish they can stop longing for the persons they truly want but an not have. And sometimes they can't stand the sight of each other. They pick fights on purpose and break up from time to time. They get back together and pretend everything is peachy and fine from time to time. They are afraid to make commitment. They are not ready to make compromises and sacrifices. They are not willing to change. They feel trapped and lonely. But they just can't say no to their mothers.

Tonight they are both depressed and angered. He dreams of the cold-eyed curvy blonde every night. She wants to wake up every day in those Mocha Latte arms. He wants her to stop hanging around with her dangerous crazy mentor and get a safer job. She wants him to mind his own business and stop bossing her around. Things quickly get out of hand. But they are too angry and too upset to give a damn. They poke at old scars. They sneer and make cruel remarks. They are thirsty for blood and they bare their fangs. They have known each other for ages. They know how to make each other hurt. He lets out a bark of laugh and makes an extremely rude and improper comment. She glares at him with blazing eyes and slowly spits out the poisonous toxic forbidden words.

She wins.

Pain, regret, sorrow and humiliation tear through his heart. His mind becomes clouded and blank. He can hear his boiling blood thrashing through his veins. In a sudden fit of cold murderous rage he draws back his hand as if to slap her across the face. People around them stare in shock and gasp. She stands there looking at him with widened eyes. She doesn't have enough time to react. The resilience and defiance in her eyes help him catch himself in time. He lowers his hand. His anger ebbs. All those people are watching. He feels ashamed. He has thought he's not the same. He has thought he's stronger, braver, and smarter. He has thought he broke the family curse. He's not a mean drunk. He's not a nasty gambler. He's not a notorious cheater. He has never ever raised his hand to a woman. Until now. He has let his rage get the better of him. He is no different from his grandfather, father, uncles, cousins, and elder brother. He is this close to marry a woman he doesn't really love. He is about to move in to a world made of lies. He's too afraid to go to the woman he loves and confess his love. He doesn't want her family background to become an obstacle in his has great dreams. He is too ambitious. He keeps lying to himself and the rest of the world.

He is a Morelli man.

He opens his mouth trying to say he's sorry. Stephanie grabs her bag, turns around, and flees. He can hear people murmuring not exactly under their breath. He can feel people staring hard at him. He can feel his own face burning. He can see his mother frowning. He can feel his chest tightening. He feel tired and sorry for himself. He has unwittingly burned the bridge. There is no way Stephanie is coming back to him. Not after this. She has been beaten, threatened, kidnapped, and once tortured. It's not a national secret how she feels and thinks about violent men. He has shown the dark unpleasant hidden side of him. In public. He can still feel the adrenaline rushing through his body. He can still feel the the tempting, teasing, taunting sensation. He has tasted the power lying deep down within. And somehow it feels good and satisfying. He has awoken the beast. He has no idea if he will ever be able to coax it back to sleep. And now he is both frightened and excited.

Joe Morelli closes his eyes for a second to collect himself. He takes a long calming breath. He pays the check and walks out of the crowded pizzeria. He holds his head high and his back straight. He gets in his brand new Chevrolet Tahoe and starts the engine. He heads for his 2-story lovely cozy sweet silent empty house. He thinks of Bob, his goofy friendly playful dog. He thinks of Terry Gilman, the woman he loves and wants but can not have.

He's glad that this time Stephanie Plum is not coming back.


	12. 12 Tolls Of The Bell

**12 Tolls Of The Bell**

"It wasn't my fault!" She shivers and angrily yells. Her voice breaks a little as her tears threaten to fall. She's hungry and a bit shocked. She feels angry, frightened, and cold. Why can't he understand? She hates it when he yells and makes all kinds of false accusations. She was just trying to do her job. She did nothing wrong.

The choking smell of burning rubbers and metals fills the after midnight/early morning air. The narrow street is lit by the 2 burning cars. The sky is dark and the wind is chill. The few bystanders cast curious glances at the scene with widened eyes. One of the firefighters curses under his breath as he trips over something and almost falls. Somewhere not very far away, a dog starts to howl.

"It wasn't your fault? Jesus Christ, Cupcake! You almost got an innocent man killed!" His voice is filled with anger and frustration. His face is contorted with worry and rage. He's on the verge to puking out all the roasted turkey he just ate. He's too old for this shit. "Did it ever occur to you that he has a wife and a little kid waiting for him at home? It's fucking New Year's Eve for God's sake! Why couldn't you just take a day off and give us a break, Stephanie? You are killing me here!"

His heart is still thumping in his ears. One day it's going to fail because of her. His hair has started to turn grey. Hell, he has also started losing hair. He's running out of patience and courage. His stomach is now full of holes. He sometimes loses sleep and has nightmares. The unpleasant burning smell makes his eyes watery. The coldness makes his teeth sore. What has he done to deserve this? He is a decent hard-working man. He has good work ethics and impeccable reputation. All he wants is a little happiness. All he wants is a normal life. Surely he deserves some peace and quiet? So this is the price he has to pay? His punishment for loving a woman like her? Why does she have to be so difficult? Why does he have to care? Why can't he just let go and move on? Why can he just walk away and find someone else to love? Maybe they will both be happier that way, he sometimes thinks. But every time he looks into her blue eyes, whatever resolution he has simply melts away. He has unwittingly become a prisoner of love. He has fallen victim to her unique charm.

He rubs his face with both hands and lets out yet another frustrated sigh as he sees the resilience and defiance in her eyes. He braces himself for her irrational rage. He knows what is coming. Another one of their typical fights. In front of a small crowd **.** On New Year's Eve. Ain't that great? Just what he needs. He feels the familiar headache building behind his eyes. What he wants from her is simple and reasonable: Quit her job. Find new friends. Get rid of her commitment phobia. Stop fighting against herself and the world. Accept herself as who and what she is. Settle down. Move in with him. Pick a ring. Plan their wedding. Talk about future plans. Decide on the number of kids. He just wants her to be safe. He just wants her to be happy. He just want to stop her from hurting herself chasing impossible dreams. She's a grown woman now. She needs to stop being naïve. But has she ever listened to him? Suddenly he feels old and tired. Maybe it's time to pray for a miracle. Maybe this time will be different. Maybe she will finally listen. Maybe she will finally understand.

"Cupcake—" Joe Morelli opens his mouth to speak but is immediately interrupted by the chirp of Stephanie's cell phone. He suddenly notices the 2 sleek black SUVs that have been parked nearby. Tank, the huge black man-mountain, is talking to an uniformed officer. A somewhat familiar-looking muscular bald tattooed man is staring at him with cold blank eyes. Joe Morelli clenches his teeth. He already has enough problems on his hands, and the goons have to be here to complicate things. He feels his anger rising as his body tenses. He now scores a glorious 9.9 out of 10 on the upset scale.

Stephanie's face softens as she lowers her head to read the text message. "Babe," It says. Ranger's currently out of the country. But still he manages to keep track of her. A smile finds its way to her face. Now she doesn't feel so cold and so alone. A new year has arrived. Does she want to stay the same? Does she need to make some changes? Does she want to be happy? Does she want to love and be loved? Does she want to keep lying to herself? Does she want to keep letting irrelevant people write the story of her life? Does she have enough courage to grasp the chance? _What exactly do you want in life, Stephanie Plum?_ She asks herself and holds the phone tight in both hands. She takes a not so deep breath and turns to face Morelli. She has things to say and questions to ask. She has a statement to make.

"Joe, why do you want to marry me?" She looks into the familiar dark lean handsome face and for the first time in her life sees the tired impatient lonely angry 30-something man beneath the face. She's not sure if she likes what she sees. "Do you want to wash my dishes and do my laundry? Do you want to dust my curtains and vacuum my carpet? Iron my bras and panties? Sew on the buttons? Put flowers in the vase every morning and cook me meals? I am nobody's maid. I am in need of a maid. I am who and what I am. I am not going to change for anyone's sake. To me marriage is a burden and a trap. I don't want to spend the rest of my life buried in house chores. I don't want to spend the rest of my life cleaning up after a dog, a husband, and a couple kids. I tried that once. It was awful. I paid a terrible price for that mistake. Maybe I am scarred for life. Maybe I have learned my lessons the hard way. Now I am happy to inform you: I am nobody's Cupcake. I am not your Cupcake. I am not my mother's Cupcake. I am done being a Cupcake. I'm not soft, moist, fluffy, sweet, or airy. I'm not cheap and easy. I'm not convenient and handy. I don't cook. I don't clean. I hate doing laundry and dishes. I don't do marriage and babies. I am who and what I want to be. I am just me. I like being me. Happy New Year, Joe. It's been fun, but now I'm done. Go find someone else who's willing to clean, to cook, to pop out babies and look after you. I'm in love with someone else. I've been in love with him for years. And I think you know who that someone is."

Joe Morelli stands there stunned. He feels dizzy. He feels unreal. His mind is a mess. He knows he, too, has a lot to say. He knows he needs to say something quick. He knows he needs to confess his unconditional love. He knows he needs to tell her that he can cook, he can clean, he doesn't mind doing laundry and dishes, and that he's most willing to take care of Bob and the babies. But he just stands there frozen, unable to make a sound, watching Stephanie turn around, walk away, get in Tank's SUV, and then disappear. Snow starts to fall. He just stands there, remaining where he is. A massive wave of loneliness washes over him.

A new year has begun.


	13. 13 Hours Till The World Ends

**13 Hours Till The World Ends**

She opens the door, drops her bag, and looks at the ruggedly handsome laughing man. She smiles, bends down to pat the drooling dog and once again feels the sudden indecision deep within her heart. Some say the world is about to end in five days. Five days. That's one hundred and twenty hours. She sits down beside the man on the couch and helps herself to a slice of lukewarm pizza. The strong flavor of garlic explodes in her mouth. She winces and takes a sip of the now warm beer as the man laughs at something on TV. She has seen the movie before and liked it very much, but now all of a sudden she no longer finds it funny. It is indeed cheap, silly, and tacky. The storyline is cliché, the characters are phony, and the plot is predictable and juvenile. She swallows her sudden disappointment and sigh and keeps on chewing.

She has five more days to live. One hundred and twenty hours to think about her whole life and reflect upon all the mistakes she has ever made. She is not a complete moron. She is not a total idiot. She has done some brave and smart things. She has saved lives and helped people out. She always tries to do her best. She's just...she's just...complicated, and indecisive. And maybe just a tiny little bit lazy. Maybe. Her failed first marriage has hurt her deeply. She has not only lost trust in men, but also lost faith in herself. She still knows she has it in her to accomplish great amazing things. She still wants to prove herself. But as time goes by, she no longer seeks to improve herself. She has learned to settle for the second best. It's quicker and much easier. Everything tastes the same if you ignore the screaming protests from your taste buds and keep on chewing. Every man feels the same once you close your eyes and imagine yourself in a happy place. Yes, it's so easy to pretend. It will be simpler if you tell yourself "What's the point?" and "I don't care". Shits happen to her because she's not perfect. At the end of the day, it is all her fault. Dickie cheated on her because she wasn't as sexy and cooperative as Joyce. She refuses to quit her job as a bounty hunter because she sucks at everything else. She got laid off. She got her employer blown up. But is she really good at what she does for a living? She would have been dead for a million times had it not been for Ranger's help. And Ranger is not marriage material. Is that the reason why she keeps coming back to Joe?

_No, don't blame it on Ranger. You made your own decision. You chose your own path. You are a mature grown woman. Nobody can force your hand._

She feels a sudden lump in her throat. She has become the prisoner of her own mind. She has plotted her own downfall. The world's No. 1 coward. The blind and deaf Queen of Denial. That's who she really is. She sits there listening to the man's laughter. He's too hairy to her liking. He smells too much of stale cheese and beer. He's too arrogant, too cocky, too self-centered, too selfish. But she never ever told him what she truly thinks of him. She was taught to be polite, and her mother taught her well. Too well.

She raises her eyes to the TV. She knows the movie will end in about 10 minutes and there will be a stereotyped happy ending. She suddenly realizes how much she dislikes the movie and the leading actor. She doesn't like the leading actress, either. His smile is fake and annoying. Her boobs and hair and face aren't real. She feels her chest tighten. She knows when the movie ends the handsome hairy man will turn to smile at her, say some cheap tacky flirty words, and have sex with her right here on the couch in front of the goofy dog. And some of her friends and families keep telling her that she's lucky he wants to marry her. He's good-looking. He's charming. He's sexy. He has the best ass in Trenton. He has lizard tongue. Nobody ever tells her he's extremely hairy, he has the strongest garlic breath, he knew how to molest little girls when he was only 8. He took your virginity and walked away. He then wrote dirty tacky things about you all over town. And he has never once sincerely apologized for what he did to her. He simply frowned and impatiently said: "Look, I'm sorry, Cupcake. OK?" And people just keep telling her: "Forgiveness is a virtue, Stephanie. Isn't it enough that you ran him over with your car and broke his leg?"

 _I don't know. Is it enough?_ She smiles and starts laughing softly.

"Shush, Cupcake. I'm trying to watch the movie!" The man hisses.

He seems a little pissed. He started eating without her. He didn't bother to ask what she wanted for dinner. He just grabbed the phone and ordered his favorite pizza. Thick crust with extra cheese and garlic. And he wants her to become the mother of his children one day. "His" children, not "theirs". His dreams, not hers. She closes her eyes for a minute. She grabs her bag and stands up. The big orange dog looks up at her lazily and wiggles his tail. The movie comes to an end.

"Cupcake? Steph?" The man calls out, his voice surprised and a bit confused. "What are you doing? Where are you going? Come here."

She stops by the door. She decides not to turn around and look back. They say the world is about to end in five days. Five days. That's one hundred and twenty hours. That's all the time she has left. Use your time and money wisely, she was taught. "Good bye, Joe." She says, suddenly feeling happy and relieved. "Have a good life." She lets herself out and closes the door quietly behind her. She breathes in the cold winter night air. The sky is scattered with stars. The world is about to end. She knows who she wants to be with and where to find him. She's currently driving one of his cars. She even has his keys.

Ain't that lucky?


	14. Mean Lean 14

**Mean Lean 14**

"I can't do this anymore. It's been fun, but now it has to end." He quietly says. "I'm sorry. I really am. I thought I loved you but I was wrong. This is not love. All we have between us is sex. I guess I mistook the thrill for something else. I was confused by the pleasure I felt. I was lonely. I was desperate. I was hungry for affections. I made a terrible mistake. I should have known better. We are not meant for each other. We are wrong for each other. We want different things in life. We don't have the same goals. We have too little in common. We can't stop fighting over small stuff. We are both too stubborn. We are both too proud to admit our mistakes. We will both be happier without each other. We can't stand each other. We crawl back to each other. We are both tired and exhausted. We are angry, upset and frustrated. We are both depressed. This unhealthy relationship has to end or we will end up killing each other. I don't want to hate you. I want us to remain friends. Go find someone else who can make you smile and feel complete. You deserve to be happy." He stands up from the bed and starts to get dressed. He put on his shoe, walks toward the door, and turns around for the very last time. "Goodbye, Joe."

Vinnie Plum closes the motel room door softly behind him. A drop of tear rolls down his cheek. Everything is so quiet and so peaceful. The snow has started to fall.


	15. Empty Fifteen

**Empty Fifteen**

The day he died the sun was high and the sky was bright.

The wind was mild and I could smell BBQ in the air. The orange fireball was magnificent. I could hear people screaming. The world around me was a panic mess. I felt warm and a little happy. It was the right thing to do. Every story must have a moral. All the bad guys had to be punished in the end. No one could escape or it wouldn't be fair. I'd learned how to make a bomb from the internet. Though I sucked at chemistry, it wasn't as hard as I had expected. Now the man who'd ruined my life was finally dead. What he had done to me had left me forever scarred. Nothing could ever change that. Revenge wasn't sweet. I was still broken and empty. I felt hollow inside. The things he'd written about me. The way people had looked me. The way they had laughed at me in my face and behind my back. The way they had taunted me. I was trapped in that unhappy place. I was still that frightened humiliated 16-year-old girl. There was no redemption and no escape. He had damaged me. He had tainted me. He had robbed me of my trust in humanity. He'd told me I wasn't as tasty as he'd expected. He'd told me I wasn't as soft and moist as he'd thought. He'd said I was boring. He'd said I wasn't worth it. And now I still shivered at the sight of every dark lean handsome smirking face. This, was the only way. I prayed it would rid me of all my pains. I wanted it to stop to hurt. I didn't want to cry myself awake every night. Maybe from now on, I could finally sleep in peace.

"Goodbye, Joe. Payback's a bitch, isn't it?" I whispered to the invisible ghost in my soft raspy voice. "They said you were a changed man. They said you'd seen the wrongs of your ways. But I don't buy it for one minute, Joe. You have never ever apologized to me for what you did. You just stood there smiling at me in such a patronizing way. What happened between us was nothing but a stupid joke to you, wasn't it? I fell for your lies. I gave you my trust. I let you coax me out of my pants. You took my virginity and then in a blink of an eye ruined my life. I think we are even now, Joe. I think it's a good thing that now you're dead. You will never be able to propose to Stephanie. Yes, I saw you bought the ring. Now Stephanie can have a chance to real happiness. Do you know that you made me want to puke every time I heard you call her 'Cupcake'? Do you remember you used to call me 'Cupcake' too? You won't get to ruin another woman's life, Joe. You have told enough lies and done enough damage. Enjoy your death, Joe Morelli. You don't deserve to be happy. You really don't."

I started my car and stepped on the gas. I drove away slowly from the crime scene and the excited gawking crowd. I melt into the bright daylight. Maybe one day I would be caught. Maybe they would never solve the case. "Be happy, Stephanie Plum," I heard myself chanting over and over again, "be happy. Please" Whatever fate had in store for me, I would welcome it with open arms.


	16. Sweet 16

**Sweet 16**

His shoulders are still broad. His back is still straight. Though his smooth almost black hair has turned silver, he looks remarkably fit and young for a man his age. He still doesn't talk much. He still seldom smiles. And sometimes when the weather changes and the sky turns grey, his eyes will become a deep shade of dark brown as he loses himself in thoughts.

The old black-and-white cat rubs against his leg and purrs. He picks up the cat and together the two of them sit in the winter sun. He enjoys the silence. He's never afraid of darkness. He's used to be alone. He loves the cat. And he likes snow. Maybe that's why he didn't move to the warm sunny state down south years ago. The cat curls in his lap and falls asleep. Everything in the empty house is still and quiet. Everything in the empty house is tidy and in its place. He closes his eyes and thinks of his younger days. He has regrets and he did make a lot of mistakes. He has tried his best to make amends. But sometimes he can't help wondering if the wounds are too deep to heal.

He opens his eyes before he actually hears the sound. He doesn't move or turn around. He doesn't want to wake his cat. The front door opens and closes. The footsteps come closer and closer. He hears voices. He hears laughter. He hears a child's giggle. The cat wakes up, yawns, and goes back to sleep. His granddaughter comes into the sun room and gives him a hug. The cat purrs louder as the young woman scratches its chin. He smiles. She looks just like her mother, his first born child, and in the coming spring, she'll become a mother herself. His eldest son walks in with his youngest grandson in tow. He looks into the child's eyes and almost sighs. He lost his beloved wife the previous year. The 7-year-old boy has the same clear blue eyes and wild curly hair, and he loves doughnuts, birthday cakes and chocolate, too.

That night he lies in his bed with his cat in the crook of his arm. It takes the both of them a while to fall asleep. Maybe it's because they both miss his wife's soft snoring and the sweet fruity scent of her perfume. He lets go of his loneliness and starts to dream. He dreams of the day she told him she was carrying his child. He looks around and sees ruby-red roses and colorful doughnuts everywhere. He gives her his 1000 Watt smile and wraps her in his arms. She feels so warm, so right that he almost cries.

The cat sleeps on and start to snore. A drop of tear rolls down his wrinkled cheek. He's never afraid of darkness. He's used to being alone. He loves his cat and his family. He likes this city and snow. But he misses her like Hell.


	17. 17 Minutes

**17 Minutes**

Their eyes lock for a long minute.

He takes a step forward and cups her face. His hands feel warm and rough against her skin. She closes her eyes as their lips briefly meet. She can tell he likes her cute little black dress. They leave her apartment and get in his car. She knows the protocol. She has to be creative and stay alert. The man they are after is not exactly extremely dangerous, but he may turn aggressive and even violent. She will be extra careful, she promises. She's too young to die and she really doesn't want to get hurt. She also hates being groped. She always feels like puking when her targets lean in to take a peek at her breasts.

She takes a deep breath, squares her shoulders, and steps into the bar. Truth is, she didn't want to leave his side. She wanted to stay in his arms. She wanted to melt away in his kiss. She had to force herself not to look back when she got out of his car. She will be lying is she says she's not afraid. But she needs rent money. And she wants to help him out. She's sure he will keep her safe. The night is still young. The bar is only half full. She spots the empty corner table and slips into the chair. She orders a bottle of sparkling water from a bored-looking waitress. She raises her brows as her eyes fall on the other woman's outrageously exposed cleavage. Geez. Those sexy blood-red fuck-me pumps look like some kind of medieval torture tools.

The single long stem yellow rose in the vase makes her nauseous. She knows she's been here for only 3 minutes, but the waiting makes her antsy. She looks up and turns to face the Staff Only door as she feels the change in the air. Her target is here. A lean balding 40-something man with an unpleasant face. He looks nastier in person, and his smile is chilling. She soon catches his attention. She tries not to shiver as he walks toward her. There's something disturbing in his cold beady eyes. She starts feeling scared. She knows she can call it off anytime. But she doesn't want the chance to slip. She puts on a charming seductive smile and licks her lip. She tries hard to suppress the urge to bolt out of her chair and run straight out of the door. She has to accomplish her task. She needs to lure this man out of the safety of his bar. She needs to make him believe that he's going to spend a hot steaming night with a sexy willing and not very bright woman **.**

She talks and laughs and flirts with him. He buys her another glass of the colorful cocktail. She giggles at his dirty jokes. It takes all her willpower not to tremble when his hand lands on her bare thigh and boldly moves upward. She bats her eyelashes coyly and shies away. He leans in closer and whispers in her ear. Yes, of course she'd love to know him better. Maybe they can go to somewhere quieter and more romantic? Somewhere they can have some privacy and share a bottle of pink champagne? She sees the gleam in his eyes. She knows the fish has bitten and now he's hooked. She's such a good actress, she congratulates herself. Soon it will be all over and she can go home to take an extra long shower and scrub herself clean. They stand up from the table and she grabs her small party bag. The ever so familiar mixed smell of garlic, beer, sweat and cheep cologne invades her nose.

"Cupcake? What the Hell?" A seething tall dark movie star handsome man blocks their way.

"Oh crap." She murmurs under her breath. Then all Hell breaks loose.

Her target and her on-and-off boyfriend exchange insults and throw punches at each other. Her target's men and her on-and-of boyfriend's friends throw punches at each other without wasting any time to exchange insults. Men shout and curse. Women scream and yell. Chairs and bar stools fall to the floor or land on human bodies. Bottles and glasses crack and shatter. She tries her best to make herself small and invisible. She has no idea why her life has to be this complicated. She wants wants to catch the bad guy. She just wants to make some money. She just wants to help him out. She just wants to be happy. She just wants to woman up and tell him she loves him after this mission is over. Yes, she loves to call them missions. It's much, much more than distraction. She has to be completely focused. She has to improvise sometimes. She has to do her homework. She has to always be careful. She has to play silly and dumb. She has to tempt, to seduce. She has to lie, to lure. She has to be brave. She has to be smart. Now she just wants to get out of here unscratched. She just wants to collapse in his arm and stay there till the end of time. She just wants to confess her love. She just wants and needs him to love her back. She just wants their someday to arrive. Is that too much to ask?

A pair of muscular arms materializes out of nowhere and wraps around her waist. She jumps and squeaks in fear. She calms down and stops her tears the moment she hears "Babe," in her ear. They get out of the bar and get into his car. He wraps her in his jacket and holds her in his arms for a long, long minute. He kisses her on her forehead, locks the car doors, and goes back into the bar. She closes her eyes and sighs. She doesn't know if she should feel happy, embarrassed, or sad. She thinks a little of her messed-up life. She frowns a little at her tangle of a relationship. Yes, she knows how unhealthy and twisted it is. And that's why she wanted to put an end to it and move on with her new life. She has made up her mind. She won't back down or budge. She doesn't want to be trapped in the wrong relationship anymore.

She hears the sirens and opens her eyes. The police has arrived. The familiar muscular men in black walk out of the bar with their cuffed and unconscious target. They all look bright eyed and bushy tailed. Some of them are even smiling their scary smiles. He stops to talk with the officer in charge. The cops roll their eyes, shake their heads, and go into the bar. He gets into the car, looking as fresh as a daisy and as cool as a cucumber. He starts the engine and drives away. She knows her city. She knows the roads. No, they are definitely not heading back to her lonely empty small apartment.

"What about Rex?" She calmly asks.

"Hal's on the way." His eyes remain on the road ahead.

"Joe didn't try to hit you, did he?" She chews her lip and finally asks. "You didn't kill him, did you?"

"Babe," He stops for a red light and almost smiles. He turns to look her in the eyes. He looks so beautiful, so dangerous, and so calm. He likes her cute little black dress. He likes her chic sexy boots. He likes the color of her lip gloss. He likes her sweet perfume. He loves the courage and determination in her eyes. He reaches out a hand to tuck a stray curl behind her ear. His fingers feel warm and rough against her skin. His smile materializes. "I love you too."


	18. Big Fat 18-Wheelers

**Big Fat 18-Wheelers**

"Cupcake, you are making a huge mistake!"

He said through clenched jaw. He was so angry that he could practically feel the steam coming out of his ears. Oh, yeah, he did have hair growing out of his ears. So what? He was an Italian man. He had a quick nasty temper. His breath smelled like garlic and beer. He was born with a lot of hair. He waved his arms a lot and shouted a lot. He knew how to fight in bars. He had an eagle tattooed on his hairy chest. He had an ugly scar in one of his brows. He also had an always loaded gun and a gold shield. He was a police detective. He ran after bad guys. He fought crimes. He was good-looking. He was hard-working. He knew he was good in bed. He liked his job. He liked his life. He took care of his family. He had a nice 2-story house. He had a big playful dog. He never watched or read Cesar Millan. He could cook but he believed it was the woman's duty. His job was to bring home the bacon. It was as simple and plain as that. Why did she have to be so difficult? Why did she always have to disagree? Why did she always have to argue? Why couldn't she just open her eyes and see the truth? Why couldn't she just batter her eyelashes and say "Oh, yes! Yes! Yes!" and get it over with? Why couldn't she just square her shoulders and accept her fate?

He was getting uneasy and nervous. He was losing his patience. Every day he woke to hear the ticking of his biological clock. He knew he was no longer young. He had already started worrying about the quantity and quality of his sperm and semen. He wanted a chance to be a father. He deserved a chance to happiness. He wanted a clean sparkling house, fresh flowers in a vase on the table, and a hot hearty dinner every night when he came home from a long day's tiring work. He wanted to hear a bunch of cute kids call him daddy. He wanted to flop down on the couch and watch some TV. He wanted to smile his bright charming smile when his beautiful wife kissed him on the lips and told him dinner would be ready in 5 minutes. He wanted to be the king of his kingdom and castle. He wanted a fairy tale life. He wanted his own Happily Ever After. And now she was ruining this.

He could make her happy. He could give her everything she needed. A house. A dog. A husband. A car. A ring. A couple kids. And a normal life. He would keep her safe from the outside world. He had just offered her his hand in marriage. He had just offered her a chance to a wonderful life. They were a perfect match. They would share a peaceful life. They would be the modern American Dream. She would finally find her place in life. She would finally realize her purpose in life. She would know her role. She would embrace her path. She would always be his one and only Cupcake. He would be her truthful faithful Muffin. They would be happy. Everyone would be happy. But she had had to gape at him for 3 whole minutes and say: "Geez. Thanks. But no."

"Cupcake, you will regret this!" He could barely contain his anger. He so wanted to grab hold of her and shake some common sense into her sad empty brain. "Don't expect me to turn around and take you back. Once I walk out of this door, Cupcake, it's over between us. We will become strangers. We won't even be friends. We will go our separate ways. Our paths will never cross again. And you will live to regret this day." He looked hard into her eyes and braced himself. He knew he would soften and cave the moment he saw her uncertainty and tears. No, this time he would lay down the rules from the beginning and he wouldn't budge. This time he would have to be the calm and assertive pack leader, and he wouldn't hesitate to take the reins with a firm hand. He had to be the master of the house and make all the decisions if they both wanted to have a chance to happiness.

"This is your last chance, Cupcake. Think carefully before you give me your answer." He stood up from the table pointing a slightly shaking finger at her and said slowly in a deep voice. For the first time this night he saw the picture on her new t-shirt. He was never a cat person, but he was sure he'd seen that cat somewhere. "Grumpy is the new cute." It said. What? A grumpy cat? He almost snorted. She might have the wrong job and the wrong friends. She might not be very clever and tend to make a Hell lot of stupid mistakes. But she sure was cute and adorable in her very own special way. And he was not ready to give up and walk away. "Will you marry me, and be the mother of my children?"

She stood up slowly and he frowned a little as he saw her eyes harden. They were now two pools of icy blue flames. And he suddenly remembered where he'd seen the cat. The new internet sensation. The cat with its own website and Facebook page. The cat on TV News. Tard. Tardar Sauce. The Grumpy Cat. "I had fun once. It was awful", "Went to Disney World. Ate Mickey Mouse", "I came. I saw. I complained", "The world is ending in two week? Good", and...He started to panic as he suddenly felt the cold clutches of fear and despair. He already knew her answer. He knew what she was going to say. He was now drenched in cold sweat. He tried to stop her. He had to stop her. He opened his mouth and no sound came out.

"Nope." Stephanie said. Her voice flat and determined. Her face calm and expressionless. Just like the Grumpy Cat.

His world fell apart. He nearly fainted. He stood there frozen as she paid the bill, tipped the waitress, and left without a backward glance. All he could feel was the sudden abrupt coldness crawling all over his body. All he could hear was the sound of his heart thumping in his ears. All he could see was tons and tons of cute cat pictures with humorous quotes written in bad grammar.

"I can has a cheeseburger. I can has a cheeseburger." Joe Morelli closed his eyes and murmured. People around him looked at him weird. "I can has a cheeseburger..."

 


	19. 19. Notorious.

**19\. Notorious.**

It wasn't my fault. It was an accident. I showed up at the wrong time. At the wrong place. As usual. It's not like I had a choice. I have a life to live. I have a job to do. I have rent to pay. I have to update my Facebook status and watch TV. I have to take showers. I have to eat. And sometimes my skips are mad, vicious, and tricky. Yeah, lucky me. Stephanie Plum. Untrained bounty hunter. The woman who's allergic to guns and knives and bullets. The woman who acts by hunch and instinct. The woman who's rarely ready and never prepared.

I have been shot once before. But this time it felt different. This time it still hurt and burned like Hell but I soon became numb, and now I am feeling cold. I can vaguely hear voices. My eyes are open but all I can see is a greyish blur. I think I am going to die. It won't take long. No, I didn't see my life flash in front of me. All I can remember is my fear and panic and the muzzle of the gun. I didn't hear the sound of explosion. I didn't have time to react. I was taken by surprise. I was scared. I was too busy praying that I could somehow wiggle my way out unharmed. But my prayer wasn't answered. I am lying on the cold dirty floor, waiting to bleed to death. I am only grateful that he didn't aim at my face. I'd hate to die without a face. Grandma will be so disappointed. My mother will definitely faint in indignation if Grandma tries to pry my casket open. My father will roll his eyes, check his watch, and hope this farce can end as soon as possible.

Will Rex miss the hand that fed him? Probably not. He's just a hamster. He probably doesn't even know his name. And screw Joe Morelli and all his "The boys miss you, Cupcake". I should have slammed the door in his face the day he hijacked my pizza and came to my door with that smug on his face. I shouldn't have trusted the rat bastard who molested me and wrote about my vagina on public bathroom walls. I should have backed up Big Blue and run him over again. I should have run Dickie and Joyce over with Big Blue, too. Well, I guess it's too late to regret now. What has been done is done, and the damage is beyond repair. Now I am going to die. I feel so tired. And so cold. I tried to close my eyes. But I have no strength left. I'm going to miss Lula, my loud nosy and dearest friend. I'm going to miss Val and the girls and Albert. And Mary Lou. And Eddie. And Carl. And Connie.

Connie. I can never thank Connie enough. She's the one who brought Ranger into my life. She's the one who asked Ranger to help me. I'm going to miss Tank. I'm going to miss Hal. I'm going to miss Ella and Ramon's ridiculously long and dense eyelashes. I'm going to miss the 7th-floor apartment, the sleek black badass truck, and all the Porsches. I am going to miss Ranger. How I hope I can be a part of his life. How I wish I can be the love of his life. But I was too chicken to tell him I love him the day I went to see him with flowers and a birthday cake. I love you. A three word sentence. Present tense. It take less than a second to say. It takes forever to say. And now forever has become never. He will never know. For I am going to become a past tense. I'll take the secret to my grave. My eyes close on their own accord. I try to smile. I feel so empty. I feel so small. I am no longer scared. I am no longer cold. I can no longer smell my own blood.

We are born to die.

***To Be Continued***


	20. 20, Ferocious.

**20, Ferocious.**

Something tugs at my heart but I feel so light.

I float and flow through layers and layers of greyish colors. If only we can have the chance to start over again. Dusty blue and misty yellow. Lazy red and numb emotionless white and black.  _HAPPY BIRTHDAY LARRY_ , the birthday cake said. The flowers I bought looked cheap and pathetic.  _I can't do this. This isn't going to work,_ I told Ranger. And he walked away. He didn't stay. For I sent him away. My loss. My mistake. My regret. I chose Morelli and sent Ranger away. The river of life. The river of the dead. The metallic taste of blood. My blood. Drop by drop my life slips away.

Something tugs at my heart but now I have no tears.

Did anyone know I was here? Does anyone know I am here? Will Ranger know I am here? Will he come here and find me dead? Will he shed his tears? Will he feel a little sad? Will he miss me? Will he come to my funeral? Will he avenge my death? Will he think of me when he meets the perfect woman? Will she have blue eyes and wild curly hair? Will he call my name by mistake in a moment of passion? Will she slap him in the face and kick him out of her bed? I wish she will kick him out of her bed. Will he feel lonely and cold? Will he come visit my grave? will he bring me flowers? A single long stem red rose. Beautiful beautiful red red roses.

Something tugs at my heart. I feel the numbness. I feel the pain. Is there...Is there a big hole in my chest? I saw him take aim. I saw his happy crazy smile. "Adiós, bitch!" Geez. That's me, Stephanie Plum. The woman who wanted to love and be loved. The woman who died because of her own stupid mistake. The woman who knew how to roll her eyes and say, "Geez" and "Duh". The woman who believed she loved two men. Two men? Really? I don't think so. There's only one, as far as I know. Ranger. Carlos. Ricardo. Mr. Tall Dark Handsome Mysterious Manoso. The one I truly love. Too bad. I will never get to be Mrs. Manoso. Too bad. I wasted so much time playing house with Joe the Hairy Rat Bastard. Too bad. I was shot in the chest. Too bad. I am going to bleed out and die. All alone. On the cold dirty floor. All alone. In this forsaken parking garage. I choke on my remorse. I choke on my tears. I drift and float away. Slowly. Tired. Cold. Sad. So sad. Killed for $2,500. Yeah, that's right, $2,500. The bail was set at $25,000. Vinnie will give me 10%. Vinnie the duck lover. Sadly related to Stephanie Plum, the Failure, the Joke, the Good for Nothing, the Disaster Magnet, the Queen of Denial. Pathetic. Foolishly stubborn. Curious. Dying. $2,500. And it hurts like Hell.

Something tugs at my heart and I know I can't just let go. Sound. Voices. I smell my blood. I feel my pain. I taste my despair. I see the engulfing darkness. Loud and quick explosions. Somebody screams. So much noises. So much pain. So cold. Nothing ever changes. I am going to die. My love remains unsaid. Darkness. Cool soothing darkness. Silence. I don't want to die. I don't wanna...

"Adiós, bitch!" and the all too familiar unmistakable sound of a firing gun. His blood turns cold. "Call an ambulance." He barks and marches forward. He takes in the scene. He takes aim. He pulls the trigger. And one by one the men all fall down like broken toy soldiers till he's the last man standing. He looks around quickly and finds her. He kneels down by her side. He checks her pulse. She still has a heartbeat. She's still breathing. She's still warm. He wants to cradle her in his arm and hold her close to his heart but he doesn't know how bad she's wounded. He can't risk making things worse.

"Babe?" He places a hand on her cheek. She doesn't respond. He thinks of how Snow White and Princess Aurora woke up in Disney cartoons, but life is no fairy tale. There's no guarantee for a happy ending or a better tomorrow. And he has witnessed and caused too many deaths and destruction to believe in Heaven and an Almighty Lord. He fights the compelling urge to say, "I told you!" in his most frustrated voice. It's too late to berate her for not following instruction, warning, advice, and order. He wishes he knows why she always has to be so stubborn. He knows he'll hate to talk about her in past tense. At the end of the day we all have to die, that much he knows. And sometimes life simply sucks for no apparent reason at all. But this is definitely her own fault. She, as usual, showed up at the wrong time at the wrong place and she came unready, unprepared, and with no backup. She scares and frustrates the Hell out of him but still he loves her in his own way. He loves her the way she is. He loves her as who and what she is. No, there's no reason in love.

He hears the sirens. He stands up and lets go of her hand as the EMTs come running. He steps aside to make room for them to work. They place an oxygen mask on her face and carry her away. He leaves Santos to deal with the cops and follows the ambulance in his Porsche. He doesn't feel panic. He doesn't feel sad. He says no prayer and he sheds no tear. He hopes for the best and prepares for the worst. He knows his priorities and he remains clam. He finds a chair and sits down to wait. He doesn't close his eyes. He doesn't feel tired. He watches the people and hears all the sound. The senior detective in charge sits down by his side and they briefly talk. There's not much to say. A bunch of dead drug dealers and a wounded friend. He can give them his official statement at a later date. People come. People leave. Her mother tries not to weep too loud. Her father sits with his head in his hands. His men come to donate their blood. Connie and Lula blow their noses as Mary Lou breaks out in tears. He feels Morelli's eyes on him but doesn't bother to react. He listens to his heartbeat, he feels his breathing, and he hopes and waits.

The surgery is over. She didn't die. She will survive. He stands up and quietly leaves. It's been a long exhausting day. He can still smell her blood. He can still feel her warmth in his hands. He thinks of the color of her eyes. He thinks of her smile. Once again he sees her pale bloodless face and he thinks of their cat-and-mouse game. Some rules are made to be broken. Some people come into your life to stay. And tomorrow is another day.

 


	21. 21. Trainwreck Version

**21\. Trainwreck Version**

I look at the scar on my breast, try to think some happy thoughts, and look at it some more. It's red and angry. It's ugly. There's nothing I can do about it. Plastic surgery is out of the question. I'm broke. I haven't worked in ages. I still feel a little dizzy when I stand too long. I lost a lot of blood. The Merry Men donated a lot of blood and my mother cried and prayed a lot. My wound is now healed but I am much weaker than I used to be. I was saved by the 2 pads inside the left cup of my bra, they told me. Their thickness is the reason why the bullet didn't have enough velocity left to pierce through my chest and shatter my heart. Saved by my own deceit and vanity. Geez. They had to remove the damaged tissue, though. So now my left breast is smaller than my right breast.

I look at the ugly scar my breast and look at it some more. I am alone inside the silent apartment. Rex is staying with my parents and Grandma Mazur. I heard my father is spoiling him. I don't know if I can keep on being a bounty hunter. I was hurt pretty bad. I know I am still frightened, and I think I may have lose my confidence. It's because of the nightmares, I guess. I keep seeing my crazy skip's mad eyes in my dreams. I still remember his insane laughter and that malicious "Adiós, bitch!" I sometimes scream myself awake and I don't know where to find my courage. I can't even bring myself to speak his name. Edward Scrog and his bomb are not at all scary compared to this. David Lee "Jo Jo" Mathews and his wild brutal craziness had managed to find a way to break me, it seems.

I take my eyes off my scar and slightly(Thank God!) deformed breast and finish drying myself. I will never be what I once was. I am different now. I have changed. And that makes me a little sad. I believed I was going to die. I believed I would never have a second chance. I believed I was going to die with regrets. And no, it's definitely not a pleasant memory. Maybe that's the reason why I slapped Joe's hand away the day he came to visit me in the hospital and said: "The boys miss you, Cupcake." and reached out a hand as if to open my hospital gown. Yeah, I knew he was just trying to joke around to lighten my mood. But what he said and tried to do made me felt so...violated. I felt so angry. I felt so hurt. I felt so ashamed. What had I done to myself to make him think I'd love his tacky joke? What had I done to myself to make him think I'd let him sneak a peek and cop a feel while giggling like a brain dead twit? Maybe he's not the one to blame. Maybe it was all my fault. Mine and mine alone.

Maybe it's because of the things I said—I wanted to yell at the top of my lungs but of course I didn't have the strength—Joe just stood up and walked away without a backward glance. He didn't look too happy. He hasn't called me since. And that makes my mother angry. Really angry. "He just walked out on you like that?" Her voice was trembling a little. Her eyes were two pools of blue flames. She took hold of my hand and didn't let go as the nurses happily reconstructed the crime scene and walked her through the whole incident step by step. And even under the influence of the painkillers they gave me, I could tell my mother was royally enraged. I hadn't seen her like this for a long, long time. The last time it was right after she hit a man with her car to save my life. She threw away the flower Joe'd brought and gave the cupcakes to the nurses and staffs. She sat there holding my hand for a long time and didn't say a word. I don't know why my mother was so upset.

From that day on, Joe Morelli is no longer on her guest list. And the very next day, she made me a pineapple upside-down cake.

***To Be Continued***


	22. Fearless 22

**Fearless 22**

He came at night and sat by my side. When I woke up the next morning, he was already gone.

He didn't make a sound. He didn't say a word. He didn't take hold of my hand. He didn't brush away my hair from my face. I was too tired to open my eyes, but I knew he was there. By my side. He made my nightmares go away. He made me feel warm and safe. He made me almost smile. He made me almost cry. Man of Mystery. Batman. Mr. Tall Dark Handsome Sexy Dangerous & Perfect. I doubted if I could ever make him mine. He didn't kiss me. But still I tasted his secretive tenderness on my lips. And I heard him let out a sigh. As if he was scared. As if he was tired. I knew he was busy. He knew I was stubborn(if not stupid. Well, at a time like this, people tend to be more honest, I guess).He just sat there the whole night keeping me safe and scaring my bad dreams away. And I didn't wake up to grasp hold of his hand and plead: "Don't go!" when he left. His time is gold. His schedule is tight. He had the world to save. I had my rent to pay. He was Batman. I was nobody. Nobody.

"You won, Manoso. You won. She's all yours now. Enjoy. Play with her heart. Fuck her hard. Spoil her with all your expensive shit and cars. Dump her when her breasts sag and her wrinkles show. Kick her out of your fancy bed like she's an unwanted cat and find yourself another Babe."

Joe Morelli let out a ragged bark of laughter. His eyes were 2 pools of blood-red fire. His breath smelled like 12 bottles of tequila. His body was drunk. His heart was numb. But his brain was sober. Painfully sober. For the first time in many many years, he saw the truth with his own eyes and now the truth slapped him really really hard and made him want to cry. Yes, he had lost. It was just like another Boston Massacre. He was the angry helpless humiliated Red Sox player. He had done everything he could but he was doomed and his fate was already written. He was cursed. Cursed. He staggered as he tried to sneer at the quiet stoic man in front of him. Oh yeah, no wonder she always called him Batman. Tall. Dark. Handsome. Mysterious. Dangerous. Sexy. Rich. Perfect. No wonder she always followed him into that little alley and let him kiss her like there was no tomorrow. It was like facing the ever so calm and prefect Mariano Rivera at the bottom of the 9th inning. 2 outs. Nobody on base. 0-2 count. Everyone knew he was going to be struck out. He knew he was going to be struck out. But still he had to stand all alone by himself in the batting box, facing the marvelous and almost magical Mo Rivera. The best closer in the history of baseball. The best cutter of all time. Now all he wanted to do was drive himself away from the hospital parking lot and go home and cry like a child.

"Go home, Morelli. You are drunk." He said to himself and laughed. He didn't even have the courage to go up to her ward and apologize. He didn't know how he'd managed to get here from the bar. His heart was broken and he was drunk. If only he had the courage...if only he had the...if only he...if only.

He hated if onlys.

***To Be Continued***


	23. 23. The Sun Also Rises

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: The Lunar New Year is coming this weekend. I'll be away from Feb 9th to 12th. Take care. Have fun. Stay safe.

  
**23.** **The Sun Also Rises**   


"Yo." She opened her eyes and quietly said. Her smile feeble. Her voice ragged from sleep. Her face not as pale.

Vinnie had given her 15% of the bail money. The hospital would release her in a couple days. Her insurance didn't cover all the expenses. She could tell her parents were a bit worried. She knew she shouldn't live alone on her own under the current circumstances. She knew she might not be able to afford her apartment soon. But she didn't want to move back with her parents. She loved having her own bathroom, and both her father and Grandma were outstanding snorers. Well, life was too short to worry about trifles. She would cross the bridge when she came to it. There would always be a way. There had to be. She was a grown woman now. She had to stand on her own. She had to be brave, smart, and independent. She still had a little money in her bank account. Now she just needed to concentrate on happy thoughts. She had done some thinking in the past few days. She knew she couldn't always have what she wanted. Life was not fairy tales. Some people got lucky and found their Happily Ever After. Most people didn't. And maybe this time she finally had run out of her luck.

"Yo." He said. His voice clam, even, and soft. His eyes dark, deep, and bright.

He brought her a box of organic chocolates. He smiled his almost there smile when she widened her eyes, picked one, took a bite, and let out a small happy moan. He wanted her to be safe. He wanted her to smile. He wanted her to know she didn't need anyone or anything to make her complete. He wanted her to know she just had to look inside to find her strength. She just had to learn to be more careful. She just had to learn to cherish and love herself more. She just had to stop closing her eyes and letting the flow carry her down the easy stream. She had almost died. She had almost gotten herself killed. He had almost lost her. Forever.

She looked up from the chocolates and smiled at him. She looked much better now. She looked less timid. He had been shot more than thrice. He knew that cold engulfing darkness. He knew that lingering despair. He knew that gripping fear. He knew she was still having nightmares. He raised his brow questioningly when she reached for her 5th chocolate. She blinked and quickly stuffed it into her mouth before closing the lid. She was like a child sometimes.

"Saved by WonderBra." He teased.

She looked him in the eyes as if she'd heard the unsaid words. For a long moment they didn't speak. Then she blushed just a little and laughed softly. The hospital was quiet at this hour. The night was dark and the air was actually better. They both knew one day he would leave Trenton. He wouldn't be back and he would leave certain things behind. At this time in his life, he was a hard-working successful businessman and not exactly family material. Marriage and babies were never high on his priority list. She suddenly felt a strange urge to bare herself to him and show him her deformed breast and that ugly scar. She wanted him to see her imperfection with his own eyes right here, right now. She was dying to see the pity in his eyes and the disgust on his face. She couldn't wait to hear him say, "Babe, you are not good enough." Yes, she knew she was not good enough. She had never been good enough. She was not good enough for the 18-year-old Joe Morelli. She was not good enough for Dickie. She was not good enough for her mother. She'd always been a burden to Ranger and the Merry Men. She was not good enough for herself, and she hadn't even gotten Rex a normal, proper hamster cage.

She was glad she didn't cry even though she felt so sad. She could still taste the sweet bitterness of the delicious dark chocolate. She raised her hand to the opening of her hospital gown, but it turned out she didn't have enough courage to accomplish what she wanted. She knew she should turn her face away from him to hide her disappointment and embarrassment. She never liked exposing her weakness and she hated, HATED, feeling sorry for herself.  _Just get it over with and make him go away,_ she berated herself.  _Let him fly high in the sky. Let him find his perfect match. He's a man of the world and I'm but a small town girl. I'm afraid to commit but still I want a ring on my hand. _My love come with a ring._ My love come with a price. I never tell him I love him and I love him in a normal ordinary average way. I'm no different from your next door neighborhood girl. I'm not special. I'm not unique. I am just like everyone else. _She thought angrily as she fought back a tear. She was plain. She was boring. And now she was also damaged.  _  
_

"Stephanie."

She took a quick breath, braced herself, and looked at him. He looked as cool and good as ever. He was dressed all in black. His hair was short, his teeth were white, and his back was straight. And he had the most beautiful eyes she'd ever seen. One day she would have to leave his bed. One day they would have to go separate ways. She always loved his voice. She always loved his hands. He had a very good voice. He had very good hands. His fingers were long and strong. His grip was firm. And his hands were always warm. It was impossible to let go of hands like these. Impossible.

"Move in with me."

She looked at him, and looked at him some more. She'd heard what he'd said, but she had no idea what to say. She was at a loss of words, and the color of his eyes was very distracting. "Don't pity me." The words came out on their own. She couldn't recognize her voice. She didn't know why she'd said it. She wasn't sure if she'd really meant it. She didn't even know why she had to repeat it in a low cracked voice. "Don't pity me."

"I'm not pitying you." His voice was quiet. His eyes were gentle. He was a father. He was a brother. He was a son, and a favorite grandchild. He was a man who knew what he needed and wanted. He was a man who knew what he could and could not live without. "I love you."

"In your own way." She locked eyes with him and finally breathed. Her heart jumped a little. Her voice was still shaky. She didn't want to end up like a pampered pet.

"Babe," He reached out and took hold of her hand. He looked into her hopeful uncertain eyes and thought of Morelli's heartbroken drunken words. "It's the only way I know." The truth and the faintest hint of sorrow in his words made him almost smile. He sealed the deal with a most tender kiss. And her lips tasted like the finest Venezuelan chocolate and the best Madagascar vanilla beans.

***To Be Continued***

****

****


	24. 24

**24**

I take my eyes off my scar and slightly deformed breast and finish drying myself. I will never be what I once was. I am different now. I have changed. And that makes me a little sad. I can no longer hide in the Land of Denial. I can no longer turn my head away and pretend the truth isn't there staring at me in the face. I have changed. And with change comes pain: Lies are much, much easier to swallow. The truth can be a real pain in the ass. I have messed up Ranger's life. I have interrupted his plans. I was supposed to be an honorable priority and a sweet obligation. I wasn't supposed to be the goal of his life and his final destination. And I showed him my pretty little dress that day years ago and then chose Morelli over him.

Life is not like fairy tales.

And I can't say it wasn't my fault.

I no longer have my own apartment. I haven't worked in ages. I still feel weak sometimes. Ranger will take care of my medical expense if I really want to have plastic surgery on my breast. He doesn't seem to mind the scar, though. He's simply glad I'm still alive, I guess. His schedule is tight. His time is gold. But whenever I scream myself awake from my nightmare, he's always there to hold me in his arms and whisper stories in my ear. He told me about the first night he spent in the desert. He told me about the scorching heat of the sun and the coldness of the night and the moon. He told me about his fears and his numbness. He told me about the strange, sad, and beautiful things he saw. His voice is always soft and gentle. I can see the looks on people's faces and the colors of their eyes through his voice. I can see the magnificence of the ancient foreign country and the splendid sunrise and sunset through his tone. I laugh at his stories and jokes. I ache at the deaths he saw. The first time he got shot in the chest, he, too, thought he was going to die. And the moment he woke up in a hospital in Germany, he, too, had changed.

The encounter with death. The cruel world. The blind reality. The hidden love. The sudden passion. The cat-and-mouse game we used to play. So what's the next step of my life? Marriage? Kids? A happily ever after? No, I have not a clue. I still dream of mad skip's crazy eyes. I still don't know where to find my courage. But now I think I know where my heart is. And I'm simply grateful that Ranger came back in one piece instead of broken and trapped inside his head. He's indeed a strong man. I would have gone insane. He had learned to cope. I had learned to run away and hide till the danger was gone. He's smart. I am stubborn. He's Batman. I'm the woman who lives in the Bat Cave and sleeps in his bed. And love is such a tricky word.

I turn my head toward the door as it silently opens. My smile surfaces as the Man in Black quietly steps in and drops his keys onto the silver plate. His hair is short. My hair is wild. His eyes are dark. My eyes are wide. He brought me a rose. A red, red rose. A long stem single rose.

It's Valentine's Day.


	25. 25 Suns

**25 Suns**

"Eh~Sexy Lady, O, O, O, Oppa Gangnam style~" He lets out a screeching howl as once again his cell phone starts to sing the strange silly song. He has absolutely no fucking idea why he can't change the damn ringtone.

Everything went wrong for him ever since he woke up this morning. He nearly sprained his ankle getting out of bed when the alarm clock rang. He couldn't find a clean pair of socks or jeans and one of his shoes was missing. He almost choked to death on his breakfast muffin and tasteless lukewarm coffee. His brand new Ford Flex broke down in the middle of a crossroad on his way to work. And he cut himself shaving twice, TWICE, in one minute. Everybody in the briefing room turned their heads at him when he breathlessly barged in. Their eyes were still on his face as his cell phone started to ring. Some raised their eye brows. Some snickered. Some rolled their eyes and whispered not so quietly, "Geez." as his boss stared at him like he was an alien. The Captain doesn't like detectives showing up late for morning meetings. The Captain doesn't like being interrupted while lecturing about morale and discipline. And the Captain HATES  _ **Gangnam Style**_  because his newly divorced ex-wife once said he looks like an overweight Psy but with shorter legs and a bigger belly.

He turned off his phone without checking who was calling and murmured an apology to his Captain. He quickly found himself a seat in the front row but soon found out he couldn't concentrate on anything. His heart was elsewhere and his life no longer had a goal. He wondered why he was still here. He should have gone somewhere else where he could start all over again. There was nothing for him here. Every day was the same. Every day was as empty as the previous day. Every waking hour was a silent torture. And things only got worse when he got drunk. He had nightmares. He had remorse and regrets. He remembered his dreams. He longed for love. He longed for happiness. And he couldn't stop thinking of his stupid mistake.

He had to turn on his phone after the morning meeting. Whatever he tried, it just wouldn't stop singing "Eh~Sexy Lady~". Some of the thieves and drunkards they dragged in sang along and tried to do the horse riding dance. Some of his colleagues openly laughed in his face. He felt like Don Quixote on horseback. But the windmill was no longer there. Stephanie no longer lives in that shabby old second floor apartment. She has been claimed. She's now a kept woman. She's now Manoso's pet. And the mere thought of her in another man's bed drives him insane. And he has no one to blame.

"Eh~Sexy Lady, O, O, O, Oppa Gangnam style~" He resists the violent urge to smash the phone against the wall. He doesn't want to scare Bob furthermore. He sits on his couch staring at the TV screen. The TV isn't on. He's afraid that he may see Psy singing and dancing on TV. He's afraid that he may burst into tears. "You won, Manoso. You won. She's all yours now. Enjoy." Once again he thinks of his heartbroken drunken words. Once again he thinks of how much he hates if onlys and what ifs.

And he never knew loneliness is such a burning pain.


	26. 26 Moons

**26 Moons**

With a soft clink his keys fall onto the silver plate. The familiar sweet fruity perfume lazily drifts in the air. A pair of high heel sandals lies on the floor beside a stuffed worn duffel bag. Inside his kitchen on the clean spotless counter, a chubby hamster is busy chewing something moist in a shabby glass aquarium. Silently he walks toward his bedroom and leans against the open door. She's sleeping on his side of the bed with the blanket pulled over her head. His side of the bed? He almost laughs. He lives alone in this 7th-floor apartment. He owes the whole damn bed.

He walks into the spacious well-organized closet. He locks up his guns, puts away his knives, takes off his clothes, and goes for a shower. Warm water flows down his body, washing away his fatigue. It's been a long tiresome day. He has a small bruise developing on his back. Maybe he's getting old. Maybe he's getting slow. Maybe he's getting careless. Or maybe he was just bored and in need of some thrill. He knew what he was doing. He knew she is here. He leads a busy life. He's a practical man. He has no time for fairy tales or paperback romance. At this point of his life, he has more need for an experienced housekeeper who is also an excellent cook than a sweet lovely wife who hates doing laundry. He turns off the water and dries himself. He looks at himself in the mirror, his eyes lingering on her toothbrush. He knows he's exhausted. He feels tired. And a bit restless.

He gets in bed and soon falls asleep. He starts dreaming. He feels warm. He feels cozy. Everything around him is black and white. Familiar and unfamiliar faces walk around him in the strange but not so strange city. He knows he's in a dream. He knows he's asleep. But still he can't remember his own phone number. It's midnight. He hears a bell tolling somewhere. The sound won't stop and instead gets shriller and louder. He opens his eyes and blinks. He's in his bedroom. He's in his bed. He becomes fully awake but still feels a bit drowsy. His phone is ringing and she's lying on top of him. She smells good. She feels warm. She's so soft. And, like him, she's not wearing anything.

He wraps an arm around her and reaches for the phone. He winces a little as Tank's slightly amused voice booms in his ear. "Morelli is here. He demands to see Stephanie."

He raises his brow a fraction in the darkness and thinks a little. Her breathing is slow and even. Her bare skin feels smooth to the touch. It doesn't take him long to reach a decision. "Tell Morelli to go fuck himself."

Tank's still laughing when he turns off his phone.


	27. Star 27

**Star 27**

She locks the door behind her and leaves. It's a little after midnight and everything is quiet. Like a cat she walks without a sound. She puts her things in the truck and gets in the car. The chubby hamster presses against the wall of the brand new hamster cage and looks up at her from the passenger's seat. She starts the engine and drives. The streets are dimly lit. It has started raining and the air is cold. She doesn't hate rain. She doesn't like it, either. The past few years is like a dream. She tries not to overthink. She tries to listen in to her heart. Her heart remains silent stubbornly. She has no destination in mind. She just wants to leave. In the middle of the night. Without telling anyone. She simply wants to disappear. Like a drop of water melts into the deep blue sea.

So she steps on the gas and drives on. Does she have a choice? Maybe. Is she ready to leave everything and everyone behind? She's not sure. Does she really love two men? Well, she has no fucking idea. Maybe it's but an excuse. Maybe she just doesn't want to face the truth. Maybe she just doesn't want to be honest. Life is all about fun and games. And who wouldn't love playing cute and innocent? Who wouldn't want to be the fair damsel in distress? Who wouldn't want to be kissed, to be saved? Who wouldn't want to brag about that she's sleeping with two tall dark handsome sexy men? Who wouldn't want to make other women jealous? Does she want to stay? She laughs softly to the voice in her calm assertive head. Who says she isn't smart? That's the question she dares not ask. That's the question she doesn't want to ask. She's too afraid. She's a big fat liar.

_Because the answer will make you cry._

She turns on the radio to pretend she didn't hear the stern little noise. From time to time she hums along. Billy Joel. Phil Collins. Bon Jovi. Lady Gaga. She doesn't like Madonna anymore. She likes Adele. She wishes she can have that beautiful enchanting voice. She wishes for a lot of things. She wishes she can be smarter. She wishes she can be stronger. She wishes she knows all the answers. She wishes she doesn't have so many questions. She drives on and sings softly under her breath. Her phone never rings. She turned it off before she made up her mind and packed her things. It's a quiet beautiful night. She's very good at running away from her problems, she'll admit.

So where does dream end? And where does reality begin? What's the difference between illusion and delusion, and dreams and lies? What's the difference between love and lust? Is it true that time is a silent river that never runs dry? Is it true that the truth is out there somewhere softly singing in the rain? Is it true that the moon taste like lemon cheesecake? Is she the only one listening? Is she the only one wishing? Will he miss her? Will he think of her? Will he come to her in her dreams? Will he dream of her? Will he know she misses him? Will he know she loves him?

She stops at a 24-hour gas station for gas and uses the bathroom. She looks at herself in the mirror and closes her eyes for a while. She feels tired. She tells herself to stop asking any question. She doesn't really have a plan. As usual she acted out of instinct. She's not nervous or worried. But now she's a bit hungry. Pino's pizza and meatball sub, her mother's cakes and pot roast, and Joe's smile. The memories she wants to leave behind. Addictions. Old habits. Obsession. Attachment. Craving. Dependance. Vulnerability. Twisted. Not healthy. She washes her face and decides to buy something to eat. She has a vague idea where she is. She's not very far away from home. Not far enough.

_Don't you want to be love, Stephanie? Don't you want to be found?_

She rolls her eyes at herself and ignores the annoying little voice in the back of her mind. Her stomach growls. She needs to get some dried fruits for Rex, too. Her refrigerator and kitchen cabinets are all empty. She did remember to turn off the light before she left. The young man behind the counter is arguing with his girlfriend over the phone and looks upset. She pays for the gas and food and tells him to keep the change. Yes, she does have money in her pocket and she feels sorry for the kid. Love is a treacherous bitch. She drives you mad and makes you weep. She rips your heart apart and messes with your brain. Just drink your Coke, feed your pet, and chew your chips. Then square your shoulders, take a deep breath, and drive on through the darkness of the night till dawn comes. Find a small clean motel. Sleep off your heartache. Wake up. And keep running away. She smiles back at the young man and walks out of the door with the bags in her hands.

She takes a couple steps toward her car and stops dead. He's leaning against her car with his arms crossed. He doesn't look angry, amused, or annoyed. His hair is a little longer. His eyes are a little darker. She hasn't seen or heard from him for 8 weeks. He looks good. He's not smiling. And suddenly she feels a little antsy. How she misses him. How she loves him. How she wishes "someday" can become "one day". Or "now". How she wishes life can be like fairy tales. How she wants to be found. By the man she needs...and loves.

"Batman." She says, awkwardly.

His lips curl upward a little bit. His eyes hold her prisoner, and soften. "Babe,"

And she smiles. And then cries. In his arms. She has never been so happy.

 


	28. Sonnet 28

**Sonnet 28**

The moment her eyes fell on the handmade black teddy bear, she knew she had to have him.

She really couldn't afford unnecessary things right now. Business had been slow and she didn't make much this month. She had to save money for rent, gas, food, and probably another car, and the bear wasn't cheap. But she was helplessly in love with that serious little face and deep brown eloquent eyes. It was love at first sight. He was so different from all the other teddy bears and stuffed toys. He wasn't like any of them. He didn't look cheerful. He wasn't smiling. He just sat there at the corner of the shelf, quietly observing the whole universe. He was cute in his own secretive way. She handed her credit card to the smiling sales lady without hesitation. And on the way home when she stopped for a red light, she decided to named him Carlo. She allowed herself a tiny secret smile as the traffic light changed. He reminded her so much of Ranger.

She locked the door behind her, ignored the flashing red light on the answering machine, and went straight to her bedroom. She put Carlo on the small bedside table and thought for a minute. She then shook her head and moved him to her new queen size bed. She was in need of a bed mate. She'd changed the locks on her front door. She'd downloaded several free cookbooks. She'd made up her mind 17 days ago and decided enough was enough. It'd been a clean break-up. No shouting. No arm-waving. No accusing. No drama. She'd calmly backed up her argument with undeniable facts, and she'd almost laughed when she'd told Morelli there wouldn't be break-up sex. He, indeed, had always been a real shameless opportunist, and she was still very proud of herself.

She took a shower, made dinner(pasta for her, dried prunes for Rex), watched a little TV, and went to bed early. She patted Carlo on the top of his head and bid him goodnight. She closed her eyes and thought of Ranger. Would she dream of him tonight? She hadn't seen or heard from him for a while. She missed him. She knew he'd been very busy. She didn't want to send him the wrong message. She didn't want to complicate things. And one day, when she was finally ready, maybe, just maybe, she would go to him and tell him...

_Tell him what?_

She opened her eyes, sat up, and asked herself. What the heck did she really need? What the heck did she truly want? A ring? A couple kids? A beautiful life with a HEA? A husband? A friend? Batman? Or a Cuban Sex God? She let out frustrated sigh, wrapped Carlo in her arms, lay down in bed again and closed her eyes.

_We can't have everything we want. And it's not about what I want. It's about what he wants. It's his life, too. He owes me nothing. Nothing at all._

She pulled the blanket over her head, told herself to get a grip and refused to cry. Her apartment was quiet and she was tired. Very, very slowly her breathing became even and she fell asleep.

_Tomorrow is another day..._

She whispered softly in her ears as she flew deeper and deeper into the realm of dreams.

_May the bridges I burned light the way..._

  
***To** **Be Continued***   



	29. Sonnet 29

**Sonnet 29**

Happiness is a tricky word. So is sadness. So is love. He stands in front of the window watching the snow fall. The room is dark and small. The air is cold. He's in a foreign country. He's all alone. He didn't turn on the light. He didn't touch his breakfast. His job is done here. He's waiting to go home. Home? He almost smiles to himself. Yet another tricky word.

It's nearly noon now. He's still not hungry, not at all. He's just a little bit bored. He's very patient. He's very good at waiting. He's used to watching things and people come and go. He's not very excited about life. He's never afraid of death. He has seen and been through a lot. He's no longer who he was. He has changed. And now he's a little numb. Calm and composed. Confident and capable. Cool and unrattled. He enjoys playing dangerous games. And he always, always, knows his worth. Some people say he's a lone wolf. And loneliness, at this point in his life, is a relative word.

He closes his eyes for a minute. Duties. Obligations. Priorities. Rules. Laws. His own free will. He reaches out a hand and grabs hold of his phone.

"Babe," He softly says into her ear.


	30. 30/Something/In/Between

**30/Something/In/Between**

_"What If I had a Cuban tantrum...and kicked Morelli's ass?"_

_—A Random Life *****_

They wake up entangled in each other. She turns a little in his arms and the bed squeaks like a dying rat. Her heart skips a beat. She now knows one of his little dark secrets. He hates her narrow bed: he hates every minute she spent in it with the other man. She tries her best to hide her smile. Jealousy is good for relationships, she heard. But maybe it's still a bit early to start playing dangerous games. She traces a brave finger down his smooth bare chest. She's pretty good at distraction. She lets out a soft tiny moan as the tip of his playful tongue finds her neck. They are perfect together, a match made in heaven, she suddenly realizes as they become one...

Very very very slowly she floats back down to Earth. She's still trying to catch her breath when the impatient knock sounds again from her front door. She widens her eyes and feels a little panic and annoyed. She thought she has made herself clear. She's absolutely sure she has made herself clear. She wants a future. She wants happiness. She forgot to ask her keys back. She didn't even hear the lock tumble. She doesn't have superhuman hearing. She was in the middle of—she stares up at him and lets out a little gasp. He knew. He heard. OMG. OMG. Of course he heard. But he didn't stop. OMG HE DIDN'T STOP.

He kisses her on the lips and gets out of the bed. She whimpers in protest as he walks out of the room. He's perfect. Too perfect. From every angle. He looks like the magnificent tiger in Ang Lee's film. Powerful. Playful. Incredibly beautiful. Extremely dangerous. Primitive. Wild. Full of life. The raging emotions within make her dizzy. She's both startled and scared by the ravenous desire he aroused in her.

"Cupcake. Steph. Come on. Open up. We need to talk _._ WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING HER _—_ "

She hears a thud. And the front door slams shut. Then everything is quiet. She holds her breath. He appears at the door. Calm as the deepest of the night. Smug as a cat. He doesn't look scary. Not at all.

"Lost my temper." One mysterious little smile and behold her hormones are on fire.

Yes, she now knows the difference between love and lust.

*** FF id: 8123793. Chapter 33. Craigslist~The Expected.**


	31. 31 Flavors, And More

**31 Flavors, And More**

"Cupcake, will you marry me?" He drops down on one knee.

Her mother lets out a gasp. Her Grandma says nothing. She meets her father's widened eyes.

The ring is pretty. His smile is happy. They've known each other for a long, long time.

Too long. And a tangled, complicated, somewhat shady, sometimes unpleasant history.

A little girl just like her. A little boy just like him.

A big noisy family.

And a crazy witch.

Her breath catches in her throat.

Her eyes start to twitch.

All of a sudden she wants to yell: "Why me?"

Yeah, of all the little 6-years-olds in this world, why she?

Yeah, of all the pretty 16-years-olds in this world, why she?

Why tossed the car key into the dumpster?

Why cuffed her naked to her shower curtain rod?

Why smashed her things?

Why attempted to smack her in front of all the police?

Why couldn't he recognize her in the beginning?

Just because he was angry?

Just because it had been many years?

Just because she's just like a cupcake: sweet, fluffy, light, cute, and easy?

No.

No.

No.

Fate is no excuse.

Karma is not a bitch.

Remember the facts.

Hold no grudges.

The truth will make you cry.

The truth will set you free.

She smiles at her father. She smiles at her mother. She looks into Grandma's eyes and sees deep blue ocean and clear blue sky.

Love. Dance. And stay alive.

Be true.

Be brave.

Be clever and smart.

She stands up, grabs her bag, and walks out of the door.

"Cupcake? Cupcake!"

"Stephanie? Stephanie!"

She ignores the noises, starts the engine, and races into the night.

Always be yourself unless you suck.

Aim at the head when zombies come.

Stay calm and call Batman.

Show him how deep is your love.

 


	32. 32 And Less

**32 And Less**

She looks into the mirror and feels a little dead inside.

She's indeed a beautiful bride. Her hair is lovely and her eyes are bright.  _Bright with worries. Bright with fears._  The little voice within quietly says. She winces. She can't deny. She's not as happy as she should be, and she knows the exact reason why. She caved. She gave in. She said yes and accepted the ring. She just wanted to make them happy. She just wanted them to stop worrying. All her friends and cousins are already married/remarried. All her friends and cousins have beautiful wonderful kids. Why did she have to be so difficult? Why did she have to be so selfish? They loved her. They just wanted her to be safe. They just wanted her to be happy.  _Don't you want to be happy too, darling?_ Her mother's eyes were shining with tears.

She hates to admit it but sometimes she couldn't help looking at her friends and cousins and feeling envy. She could always, always, hear the Clock ticking. She wasn't getting any younger. She didn't even like her job that much. All the danger she faced. All the risks she took. All the mean nasty people she had to deal with. She said yes because she was suddenly tired. She said yes because she hated feeling lonely. She said yes because her bed was too big. She said yes because she wanted to be like everyone else. She said yes because she wanted to be happy. She wanted to be loved and cherished. She wanted to have a shoulder to lean on. She wanted to have somebody. She wanted to be normal. She wanted to be ordinary. _I was tired of being me._ She softly says. But the stubborn little voice just rolls her eyes and lets out a snort. They both know she was telling the truth. They both know she was lying shamelessly. There's something you can never change. They both know she loves being who and what she is. It's in her blood. It's in her bone. It's in her eyes. They can both see it. They can both feel it.

She's already in her thirties. One day she will stop being pretty. One day the pressure of life will catch up and crush her eventually. She tried marriage once. It was awful. All it left her was a bunch of bitter memories and a sad diamond ring. Life is about taking chances and taking risks. Life is about carpe diem. Seize the day. Gather the rosebuds while ye may. Time and tide wait for no man. You only live once. Leave no regrets. Besides, Joe is a good man and fun to be with. She has known him for ages. They share a long complicated history. He used to be a mean nasty good-looking boy with a bad reputation. He's now a handsome arrogant man with a respectable job and a steady income. He has changed over the years. Together they can make beautiful babies. She has already quit her job. Uncle Vito wasn't too happy, but still he gave her his blessing. Uncle Vito is like a father to her. Uncle Vito always knows what's the best for her.  _And_   _Uncle Vito never trusts Joe._  The sneaky little voice insists.

 _Uncle Vito doesn't like cops._   _Uncle Vito is a notorious mafia boss. Your argument is invalid._ She retorts through clenched teeth. Uncle Vito is a very special man. Joe, on the other hand, wants a normal life. Joe wants ordinary happiness. A house, a dog, and a couple kids. A smiling beautiful wife, an endless supply of clean ironed shirts, underwears and socks, and hot meals on time for the rest of his life. Joe always wants to have his own family. Joe will be a good daddy. Joe just wants to be happy—

_Yeah, but what about ME?_

She stares into the mirror at herself and suddenly feels dying. She doesn't want to live this way. She doesn't want a life like this. She has money in the bank. She knows how to clean. She knows how to cook. She enjoys baking. She just wants to be her own mistress. She turns away from the mirror. She can hear the organ sounding. She starts walking. She quickens her steps. She bursts into running. She gets out of the church. She spots Uncle Vito's custom made limo. She tears the car door open. "Drive!" She locks the door and nearly shouts. She never ever loses her cool. She never ever shouts. Tony, Uncle Vito's chauffeur and bodyguard, turns to stare at her, grins, and starts the car. She loves the color of Tony's eyes. They remind her of the sky of Venice. So bright. So pure. So free. And she always, always, likes Tony.


	33. Ageless 33

**Ageless 33**

It rains all day and now her soul is soaked.

She stands by the window and looks upward. She can't see the sun. The clouds are too heavy. Everything looks dim and grey, even though the room is brightly lit. She can hear people talking in the hall. She becomes a little nervous. She squares her shoulders. She lets out a long even breath. Calm and composed. She's a grown woman. Smart. Independent. Courageous. She doesn't need to look herself in the mirror. She doesn't need to ask "What if". She already knows the answers. Every single one of them. She blinks. She looks down at herself. Her smile falters.

OK, she's lying. She's much much more than a little nervous. Her heart is thumping in her throat. She's starting to feel panic. She tries hard not to think. Her life is crazier than a paperback romance. She's too good at making stupid mistakes. She's a lousy liar. She's never really brave. She's just too stubborn. She's not the prettiest woman in the world. She hates rain. She used to be a bounty hunter. She's now 3.5 month pregnant. She's constantly hungry. She craves for anything sweet or savory. So far, no morning sickness. And she's getting married in 12 minutes, by the way.

All her family and friends are here. Everything is ready, perfect, and prepared. The flowers are beautiful. The music is elegant. There is no escape. She's pretty sure she doesn't want to escape. The food is worth to die for, she heard, and the desert is divine. Of course she plans to eat herself silly. She's eating for two. Her mood changes every 30 seconds. She's going to be a mom. She's going to be a wife. She heard Vegas is lovely this time of year. She'd love to go to Cirque du Soleil. She casts another look at the sky. Even the wind smells of rain. She thinks of the color in his eyes when she told him she's carrying his child. She didn't argue with his decision. She made a promise.

Her father knocks on the door and comes in. He, too, looks nervous. He wraps her in his arms for a brief minute. He's never a nagging dad. He has been waiting for a grandson for many many years. The music starts. They smile at each other. A special moment between father and daughter. He will always be her hero. She will always be his little girl. Together they walk out of the room. Together they walk down the aisle. Her father gives her hand to the waiting man. The ceremony begins. The vows. The rings. Her eyes tear up just a little. Like a thunder her stomach growls. Silence falls. She stands very very still. Finally the priest recovers: "I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride." The kiss is sweet, passionate, and not exactly short. And she almost melts. People start to clap, and cheer, and laugh.

"You are not laughing at me, are you?" She manages to whisper against his lips, trying her best to sound indignant. Again her stomach growls. She so wants to roll her eyes at herself.

"Babe," His whole body shakes with silent laughter. "You never disappoint."


	34. 34 Days

**34 Days**

The little hamster lies there, unmoving. His furry body feels cold. So cold. He's no longer breathing. There's no spark in his eyes. His soul has left. The woman who used to be his keeper keeps weeping. No one hears her silent tears. No one witnesses her loneliness. It's just another day in a busy city. People keep on moving forward. People go on minding their own business. C'est la vie. Yes, she understands. She just doesn't want to dry her tears. She just wishes she knows how to fill the hollow emptiness. She's all alone in this lonely world. She doesn't have the strength to move on, to let go, to forgive and forget. The whole universe is weighing down on her shoulders. She feels extremely tired and afraid. She feels hopeless. She feels helpless. She doesn't want to deal with death. She keeps thinking of all the things she didn't have, doesn't have, and will never have. She knows she will always doubt if she has done her best. She knows she's full of excuses. She knows she's full of fears. And now she's feeling ashamed. She has failed herself. She has failed her pet.

She leans back against the wall and closes her eyes. If only she can turn back time.

  
***To** **Be Continued***   



	35. 35 Memes

**35 Memes**

She always thought she had time. She always thought there was no rush. Next time, there would always be next time. But now all her promises have turned to lies. Rex is dead. All he ever had is that old soup can. She can't even be sure if he had a happy life. And her own life is still a mess. Tangled relationships. Complicated histories. Unspoken desires. Shameless lies. All she can do is sit here feeling trapped. All she needs to do is take a couple pictures of herself and post them on her Facebook wall. "Error 404. Courage not found." "Error 505. Problem not solved." One day she would get Rex a fancy hamster cage. One day she would make up her mind and choose the correct path. But all she ever did was turn her head away and live through another day. And now it's too late. And now her head has started to ache. And now her heart is in a cold dark place. Her stomach is empty. So are her fridge and cabinets. It's just another day in her life. Numbness. Chaos. Same old. Same old. Nothing new. Nothing ever changes. She gets older every day and closer to death. And she wasn't even here when Rex exhaled his last breath. She was busy having sex with Morelli during the 7th-inning stretch on his chewed-up couch. And she didn't check on Rex when she came home, took a shower, and crawled into bed. She didn't check on Rex because she smelled of garlic and sex.

 _Aren't you sick of yourself, Stephanie Plum? Aren't you sick of your lies?_   _Sex, cheap jokes, and beer. Pizza, cheese, and baseball games._ _And now you have to bury Rex. Are you happy now, Stephanie Plum, are you happy now? Aren't you proud of yourself?_ She lets out a ragged laugh as another drop of tear falls away. She doesn't even have the strength to reach for her phone and call for help. Connie. Lula. Her father. Albert. Grandma. Val. She wants to be helped. She wants to be saved. But she's with Joe now and Ranger has silently drifted further and further away.

And she only has herself to blame.

  
***To** **Be Continued***   



	36. Thirty And Six

**Thirty And Six**

She gathers herself off the floor. She doesn't know how much time has passed. Her heart is calm now and her eyes are dry. She looks at Rex for one last time. She can't bear the sight. With shaking hands she wraps him up with a towel. The coldness seeps through her skin as she gently puts the stiff tiny body into a new shoe box. The air outside is chill. She shivers a little as she starts her car. Her mother isn't home when she gets there. It's OK. She knows where everything is. She kneels by the rose bush. She takes a long breath and starts digging. Her father buried their family cat at the other side of the yard years ago. She still remembers that day. She pays no attention to the neighbors. She lets her cell phone ring. "Goodbye, Rex." She whispers, her lips trembling. "I'm so so sorry."  _Please forgive me._ She wipes away her tears. The fragrance of the early flowers embraces her. Spring is here. But Rex is gone. The dirt on her hands feels comforting. She washes her hands in silence. A car stops. She doesn't look up.

"Cupcake? Are you hiding the treasure map? Or are you planting a bomb?"

She almost smiles. How time flies. How people change. She turns around to look at him. Irreversible regrets. Careless mistakes. Secret dreams. Sorrows. Doubts. Unanswered questions. She gazes him in the eyes. She scrutinizes his face. She smells the familiar scent of aftershave. She looks at the man. She sees the boy. She sees herself. They are so much alike. Too alike. All the incidents of her life flash through her eyes. Her whole universe shakes a little as realization dawns. Everything is wrong. So wrong. "Rex died." She says evenly. Her voice sounds flat to her own ears. Emotionless. Tired. Bored. Hurt. Lonely. Determined. "Just go away. It's over. All over now." She adds.

"Cupcake," He frowns a little. He tries to take a step forward. He stops when he sees the look in her eyes. "Steph—"

"Just go away." She repeats. She sounds quiet. She sounds numb. She want to be the woman she once was. "It's over now. All over."  _And there's nothing left._ She slips off her ring and hands it back. She walks away from Rex's grave toward her car. The neighbors stare. He calls her name. She doesn't look back. She doesn't stay. She gets in her car and drives away. It didn't take much to change. It took so much to change. She's all alone now. She's still afraid. Afraid of loneliness. Afraid of death. Afraid to ask. No. There's no need to explain. Yes. She made herself very clear. Maybe if she drives fast enough she can go to the Bronx and catch a Yankees game. She can cry her heart out for Rex when the people cheer. No one will cast her a second glance. And Ranger, Ranger...

_Well,_  she allows herself a small smile and steps on the gas.  _Tomorrow. Tomorrow is another day. And at least he never ever calls her Cupcake._


	37. Thirty, And Maybe Seven

**Thirty, And Maybe Seven**

She looks at him. He raises his brow. She tries to smile. She fails. He comes closer. And closer. He wraps her in his arm before she has time to start panicking. There's no need to show him the evidence. He already knows the answer. She closes her eyes for a little while. His Force Field absorbs her. She feels safe and warm. Still she feels unsure. Still she has to ask.

"What now?"

"Now we get married."

"And?"

"And you give birth to our baby."

She opens her eyes. Her heartbeat quickens. She tries her best to calm down. She tells herself to act normal. She takes a long, deep breath. She has to know. She has to. "And then what?" She clutches his shirt in a death grip. Her voice sounds strange in her own ears.

"And then we stay married, babe," He says matter-of-factly. "And raise our kids."

KIDS? She widens her eyes and almost lets out a little gasp. He kisses her on the top of her head. She smells like summer, flowers, ice cream, and bees. "Yeah, kids."


	38. Acht Und Dreißig

**Acht Und Dreißig**

Today is his wedding day and I feel not a thing.

We have a long tangled history. He's my first in almost everything. I, like countless young foolish teenage girls in the neighborhood, had a crush on him. He saw his chance and took advantage of that. I lost my virginity. He left to chase his dream. I got married and then divorced. He came back and knocked on my door. I fell for the pizza in his hands. Thus the neverending on-and-off game began. It's just like a Taylor Swift song, don't you think?

I take the elevator and lock my door behind me. My apartment is small and almost empty. My pet hamster has left me to join my Grandpa the previous year. My rent is due next week. There's nothing in my fridge. There's nothing on TV. I am still a 30-something single bounty hunter. My mother is still royally upset and not talking to me. There's nothing I can do about it. I mean, I can't just tell her, "It's my life, Mother, not yours. Thanks so much for your concern. Now would you please get over it and make me a sandwich?" I was brought up properly. I was taught to always be nice and polite. Maybe that's why I didn't scream when he reached under my skirt and fingered me when I was 6, I sometimes believe.

I open the window and let the wind in. The air tastes salty and I don't really want to know why. This is, after all, the State of New Jersey. The man I used to sleep and break up with is getting married. I am all alone right now but strangely don't feel lonely. I sometimes think of Rex but I almost never think of him. I do miss my mother's pineapple upside-down cake and mashed potatoes but I actually don't miss him. I did see all the emotions in his melted chocolate eyes when he got down on his knee. I did feel all the emotions deep down in my heart when he presented me with the ring.

He grew up and morphed into an ordinary man who wants ordinary happiness and average things. I grew up and still dream and believe in the most extraordinary dreams. He wants kids, pizza, and Christmas tree. I want the golden moon and a pair of silvery wings. I want to be happy. I want to be free. And he didn't waste any time to find someone else. LOL. Laughing Out Loud. Yeah, let's talk about love, shall we?

I smile to myself and go get a shower. I have a busy evening ahead of me. I have tons of things on my to do list. I'll barely have time to get my hair done and my makeup right. I know when to put things behind and move on. I know how to smile and wave when people gape and gawk. I am an experienced bounty hunter. I don't make big money but still I am a pro. I still don't like guns but I always get my man. I, as well as all my families and close friends, am privileged to be invited to his wedding reception and nope, I won't go alone.

Tonight, I have a date with Batman. And the sneaky little voice in my head tells me he will love my pretty black dress.


	39. 39 Souls

**39 Souls**

He bought the monkey's paw. The dry dark cold little thing cost him 5 dollars. The tall thin pale owner of the dime-and-nickle store didn't even smile at him. He pushed open the door and walked into the chilly wind. The little side street was dark and for once he didn't see any other tourists. New Orleans, the Voodoo town, the city full of ghosts. He was here on vacation. He needed to get away for a little while. His life was a mess. He needed to get his head straight and his heart mended. So he came down south to silence his sorrows with powdered sugar-covered beignets and cafe au lait. So far it didn't work.

He ate a simple dinner at a not-so-crowded café and went back to the small hotel. He locked the door of his quiet dark room and sat down by the the window. He opened the bag with expectation. He still had no idea how he'd made a wrong turn and found himself on that narrow street. He still had no idea why he'd decided to go into the shabby store. He stared at the monkey's paw. He tried hard to ignore his doubts. He told himself to stop feeling scared. Of course he remembered the story. 3 wishes and a lifetime of regrets. But this monkey's paw couldn't be real. It was but a toy. Made in China with some kind of plastic or rubber. Shipped across the ocean. It didn't weigh much. It didn't feel real. It was nothing but a tool for pranks and joke. But still he wanted to believe it was real. How sad was that? He silently laughed at himself. It was just 5 bucks. It was no big deal.

He squared his shoulders and closed his eyes, and then made his first wish. He opened his eyes and looked around. The room was still empty and everything was still neat. He held his breath and kept waiting. Nothing happened. Nobody came knocking on the door. The phone didn't ring. He blew out a sigh. He had 2 wishes left. He thought for a minute and closed his eyes again. He made another wish. Still nothing happened. He stood up and dropped the monkey's paw onto the bed. Of course it wouldn't work. Magic didn't exist. He had just made a fool of himself. He wasn't sure if he was disappointed or relieved. He undressed and went for a shower. He turned on the water and smelled something strange: something like...sulphur and burnt metal. Cold shiver crept down his spine. He took a deep, calming breath and slowly turned around. And there in front of him stood a small ape-like creature. He almost screamed in terror. The creature tilted its head and looked at him. The bathroom was brightly lit but somehow he couldn't see the creature's eyes.

"Joe Morelli," The creature said in a cheerful raspy inhuman voice. "Single Italian male. Trenton detective. Nice tattoo, by the way."

He opened his mouth but couldn't utter a sound. He was both scared and amazed. The creature knew his name. The creature knew who he was. Did that mean...did that mean...

"Yes. Your application is currently being accessed. Please be patient." The creature gave him a polite smile. Its long, rat-like tail curled and twisted as the smell of sulphur deepened. "You made some interesting wishes, Detective. I guess we all have secret dreams, do we not? We all want to be somebody. We all want to be happy and fulfilled. We all want to turn back the clock and undo our mistakes. We all want to regain out last chances and rewrite the history. We all want something we can't have. We all want someone back in our lives. Deep down within, we are all true believers of fairy tales. We are all optimists. We dream big. We never cease to dream. We never stop wishing. Not for one minute."

He stared at the creature as if hypnotized. He thought of the wishes he'd made. He thought of his lonely empty house. He thought of his lonely empty life. No, he wasn't happy. He hadn't been happy for a long, long while. He missed his old self. He wanted to be that dashing confident handsome man who believed he could always get what he wanted. He wanted to be that smart fearless motivated man who always had his way and got what he wanted. He'd wished to be like Ranger. He'd wished to have Stephanie back. She never forgave him since their last drastic fight. And that crazy shady son of a bitch had taken advantage of that. However, he was Stephanie's first. He knew he would always have a special, irreplaceable place in her heart. With all the money, minions, fancy cars, and expensive toys at his disposal, he was sure he could win her back in an blink of an eye. That was the reason why he'd known he'd had to have the monkey's paw the moment he'd seen it in that strange mysterious store. Yeah, it did sound impractical and borderline crazy. But he had tried everything and none of them had worked. Magic, sadly, was his last resort.

"Ah, Detective Morelli. If only life is that easy." The creature giggled. "Sorry. Application denied. Your first two wishes are invalid and your third wish has been automatically cancelled. Thanks for purchasing the Monkey's Paw. Goodbye, Adieu, Auf wiedersehen. Have a nice day, and life. I will see myself out."

"What?" He gasped and paled. His own voice sounded funny in his ears. "What? How? Why?" Suddenly he was getting angry. He felt like cheated. He narrowed his eyes at the sly foul creature. He completely forgot he was naked inside the shower facing a probably dangerous powerful magical creature and that his breath smelled like the French onion soup and garlic bread he'd eaten at dinner. He'd paid for that monkey's paw. He had every right to demand quality service. He wanted his money's worth. He wanted his wished granted. He wanted to have everything Ranger had. He wanted Stephanie back. He wanted to love and be loved. He wanted to be happy. Was that too much to ask?

The creature stopped giggling and took a small step forward. The place where its eyes should have been started to glow like green flames. All of a sudden it seemed to taller and much, much bigger. The malice in its voice became apparent. "You want to know why, Joe?" The creature laughed a sarcastic, brutal laugh as it reached out a sharp-clawed paw to gently lift Morelli's chin. "You can't buy love. Nor happiness. And you never ever understand Stephanie."

The moment the creature withdrew his paw Joe Morelli crumpled to the tiled floor and fainted. He woke up hours later. The water had been turned off. He was naked and dry but didn't feel cold. He blinked several times and slowly stood up. He put on his clothes and went back to his dark empty room. Step by step he inched toward the bed as if sleepwalking. He remembered everything happened inside the shower. He could still smell the sulphur and burnt rubber.

But the monkey's paw was nowhere to be seen.

 


	40. Smooth 40

**Smooth 40**

**Alternate Ending Of 39 Souls**

"Ah, Detective Morelli. If only life is that easy." The creature giggled. "Sorry. Application denied. Your first two wishes are invalid and your third wish has been automatically cancelled. Thanks for purchasing the Monkey's Paw. Goodbye, Adieu, Auf wiedersehen. Have a nice day, and life. I will see myself out."

"What?" He gasped and paled. His own voice sounded funny in his ears. "What? How? Why?" Suddenly he was getting angry. He felt like cheated. He narrowed his eyes at the sly foul creature. He completely forgot he was naked inside the shower facing a probably dangerous powerful magical creature and that his breath smelled like the French onion soup and garlic bread he'd eaten at dinner. He'd paid for that monkey's paw. He had every right to demand quality service. He wanted his money's worth. He wanted his wished granted. He wanted to have everything Ranger had. He wanted Stephanie back. He wanted to love and be loved. He wanted to be happy. Was that too much to ask?

The creature stopped giggling and took a small step forward. The place where its eyes should have been started to glow like green flames. All of a sudden it seemed to taller and much, much bigger. The malice in its voice became apparent. "You want to know why, Joe?" The creature laughed a sarcastic, brutal laugh as it reached out a sharp-clawed paw to gently lift Morelli's chin. "You are too hairy."


	41. Brave 41

**Brave 41**

She walks like a soundless whisper. Her heart is calm and her soul is soaring. She's not afraid of this darkness. She's aware of all the deep mysteries and the lurking shadows. Life. Chances. Risks. Courage. Dangers. Love. She knows she's tiptoeing on a thin line here. But tonight, she doesn't want to be careful. She wants to be alive. She wants to be real. She's not a flat fictional character. Not any more. She's alive. She's real.

She eases open the door. She takes a step, and then another step closer. She doesn't make a sound. Her heart is beating in her ears. All her raging emotions. All her wild curious dreams. All her girly fantasies and imaginations. All her secret longings and honest desires. She's a woman. A woman in love. She gets rid of all her disguises and lies and stands still. A beam of moonlight shines down from the cloudless sky. The man in the bed wakes up, sits up, looks straight into her eyes, and says not a word. He does raise a brow, though.

The sands of time slip away. Silence floats. Slowly she undresses. And gets in the bed. And rests her head on his chest.

She's here to stay.

And he doesn't object.


	42. 42

**42**

The smile on her face never falters.

She pays for her pizzas, exchanges greetings with the aged owner and his son, gives a finger wave to her cop friends, and walks out of the not very crowded pizzeria. It's a lazy sunny afternoon. There's no ring around her ring finger. She's in her late 40s. She's still a bounty hunter. She still chases after shoplifters and petty thieves. Her hair is still wild. Her eyes are still blue. She has no kids. She hasn't blown up a thing for a long long while. And no one is foolish enough to mess with her car these days.

Her Grandma has passed away. Her old apartment building has been torn down and replaced by a fancier and taller one. Her parents have sold their house and moved to a sunny state. She no longer has a pet hamster named Rex. Her ex-on-and-off boyfriend is now a father of 3 and hasn't gotten over their breakup yet. He still believes she made a bad bad mistake. His wife chooses to concentrate on her pizza and carry on with life for the sake of their kids.

She never ever regrets her choice.

She parks her Porsche in the underground garage and hands the pizzas over to the eagerly waiting young men. Their always calm and assertive boss is going to step down as CEO and become a silent partner today. She'll quit her job at the end of this week and go away with him to a beautiful place. They are friends, lovers, companions. They are soul mates. They exchanged unspoken promises and unwritten commitment years ago. They have no need for rings. They are both happy. They are both contented. They are both free. She looks into his eyes. His smile deepens. They are still in love.

They will always be.


	43. 43 Shadows

**43 Shadows**

He blinks, and feels a little confused. Everything is so quiet. Everything is so loud. He has lost the sense of time. He knows everything is real, but nothing feels real. He looks up as he hears a thud. The gun in her shaking hands. It's now on the floor. The smell of gunpowder. The smell of blood. The developing bruises on her face. The fear in her wild blue eyes. The pain in his chest. Yes, he suddenly remembers.

He remembers the anger he felt. He remembers the deep sense of betrayal. He remembers the hate and resentment. He remembers the hurt, the desire to get even, the need to lash out punishment. So he slapped her. Hard enough to knock her down. Hard enough to draw blood. Because of the defiance in her clear blue eyes. Because of the relief written on her face.

He stared at the ring on her palm. It was an early morning of a brand new stormy day. She didn't want it anymore. She was sorry, really really sorry. She was in love with another man. She spent last night in  _ **his**_  bed. She wanted a new life of her own. She wanted to be free, to be accepted, to be loved. She wanted, and needed, to follow her heart's desire and be herself. Maybe it was the beer. Maybe it was the vodka. Maybe it was the the lap-dancing girls. Maybe it was the cold loneliness. Maybe it was his unsatisfied lust. He slapped her hard. Knocked her down. Grabbed hold of her crazy fuzzy hair. Yanked her off the floor. And slapped her again. Again. And again.

His heart broke into tiny little pieces. He came back, early, from his bachelor's party, held 2 nights before their wedding, to find her not in his bed. He took a much needed shower. He drank some more beer. He waited. And waited. And waited. From the middle of the night. To the whisper of the dawn. His soul sank into a cold dark place.  _Why the Hell did you say yes, Cupcake? Why?_ Her car was still here. Her pet was still here. He knew where she went. He was always, always worried about her wandering heart. He was always, always afraid of the unquenched fire. The front door opened. He heard her cautious footsteps. He laughed. A savage, ragged laugh. She stopped dead. She looked into his eyes. She took off her ring. She looked pretty. She looked brave. There was something in her eyes that he could not stand. She even smelled like the other man.

He acted out of rage and instincts. He couldn't think. He snapped. She did not scream. She didn't have time to react. He grabbed old of her hair. He slapped and slapped her again. He sensed her fear. He sensed her shock. He sensed her pain. He wanted to see her tears. He laughed when he saw her tears. His dog whimpered. He did not care. Again he slapped her. Hard enough to draw blood. Hard enough to knock her down, unto his chewed up couch, on top of her shoulder bag. She had her gun in her bag. She had one bullet left. The day Ranger loaded the bullet in her gun, he smiled and shook his head, "Babe," She always loved Ranger's smile. She never ever wanted someone else. She didn't know why she'd said yes. She reached inside her bag for the gun. She'd just made the most important decision in her life. She just wanted to be happy. She knew she was being selfish. But she couldn't help it. She wanted to be loved and cherished. She wanted to love. She wanted to be free. She wanted to stop running away from her heart. She wanted to stop lying. She grabbed hold of her gun. She pulled it out of her bag. She pointed her gun at Joe. She was really really sorry but she didn't want to die. She was in love with Ranger. She'd just spent a lonely night in his empty apartment. She'd just cried her heart out in his comfy empty bed. Joe took another step toward her. Joe raised his hand as if to hit her. She was scared. So so scared. She closed her eyes and pulled the trigger.

And now Joe is dead. He was shot through his chest. Rain pours down from heaven. Wuthering wind sweeps through the outside world. With a dull thud her gun falls from her trembling hands. She takes one last look at Joe's dead empty eyes, and starts shaking all over. There's no way to stop her tears. She feels cold. So cold. She's hurting everywhere. She tells herself to calm down. She doesn't know how much time has passed. She has to call someone. She has to call for help. Her nose is still bleeding. Her head is still pounding. She's feeling dizzy and dazed. One(or two?) of her teeth has come loose. She fishes out her phone. She presses the speed-dial. "Ranger," She half gasps, half sobs. Her ears are still ringing. She can barely hear her own voice. "H...help."

She holds on tight to her phone. She tries her best to listen to the calm familiar voice. A sleek black SUV stops in front of the 2-story lovely house. A black mountain of a man gets off the car and lets himself in. Two ambulances arrive. The police comes. The rain never stops. The wind keeps on howling. The lonely ghost hovers between reality and the twilight zone. The lonely ghost looks down at his own corpse. The lonely ghost stares at his once strong brutal hands. The lonely ghost has tons of questions. The lonely ghost has no answers. The lonely ghost feels terrified. The lonely ghost feels ashamed. The lonely ghost hears his father's laughter. The lonely ghost hears his mother's scream and cry for help. The lonely ghost tastes the bitter memories of his past. The lonely ghost is surrounded by the lingering ember of his once boiling anger. The lonely ghost is swallowed by the shadow of his own cruel laughter. He watches on as the black man named Tank gently wraps the sobbing woman in his arms. He watches on as the EMTs quickly examines Stephanie's bruised swollen face. He watches on as uniform officers gape at Stephanie and say, "Christ!" He watches on they take Stephanie and Bob away.  _Cupcake._  He tries to call but can't even make a rasping whisper.  _Cupcake_. He tries and tries again. _Cupcake._ He lets out one last sigh as darkness comes. Very very slowly, he melts away. And wakes up inside a Magic-8 Ball hidden in a wooden box at the corner of a dark basement.  _Cupcake._ He sighs.  _Cupcake._

But the rats and cockroaches inside the deserted building pay him no attention.

 


	44. Lifeless 44

**Lifeless 44**

**The Long Awaited Epilogue Of 43 Shadows**

They are here to tear down the long deserted building. The owner has given them permission to search for anything valuable that can be sold. So far they've found several antic chairs in the upstairs bedrooms, a wobbly oak table in the dining room, and some framed photos. Now it's time to explore the dark vast basement.

The air smells stale and wet. They can't help shivering when they hear rats and cockroaches scuttling around in the dim darkness. They find some rusty tools inside the drawers. They open the old wooden chests along the wall and find more useless stuff. They are about to give up when they found the beautiful carved wooden box at a dark corner. They go back upstairs and carefully examine the box. They like the feel of the wood. It feels cool in their hands. They know they can sell it for a good price to a willing buyer. And maybe, if they are lucky, they can find some long forgotten jewelry inside.

With much excitement and expectation they open the box and let out a collective sigh. The box is completely empty except for a Magic-8 Ball. They stare at the offensive object until one of them bursts into laughter. Summer is here, the weather is nice, and they've found some good stuff that will help them make extra cash. They are all healthy. They are all happy(well, sort of). They have a job to do. They will have better luck next time, they're sure of that.

"Wanna ask a question?" The youngest of them asks.

"Sure. Why not?" The oldest man, the leader of the group, smiles and grabs hold of the Magic-8 Ball with his gloved hands. "Should we have pizza for lunch?"

The man's smile freezes. The others' laughter abruptly stops. Cold shivers creep down their spines as they gape at the small black plastic ball in complete silence. Instead of "Without a doubt", "My reply is no", or "Ask again later", the answer in the display window is: "Cupcake..."

"This thing is broken. Let's get the hell out of here and get to work." The oldest man forces a grin on his face, drops the Magic-8 Ball on the hard bare floor, and starts giving out orders. The men soon set to work. They work fast. They work hard. No one is in the mood for jokes. And that day, instead of pizza, they have Chinese take-out for lunch.


	45. 45 Plums

**45 Plums**

"Cupcake, will you marry me?" Joe goes down on one knee and presents me with a diamond ring.

Everyone inside Pino's gasps. The last slice of my Pizza Margherita nearly falls out of my hand. I blink and stare at Joe. His warm brown eyes are bright and sincere. The look on his lean handsome face is intense. He's serious. He's waiting for my answer. Should I marry Joe? I won't have to pay rent anymore. My mother will be thrilled. Joe is no longer the mean nasty boy. I always love Bob. And the ring is alluringly beautiful. Everyone's eyes are on me. Silence continues. Tension builds. A simple "Yes" and I will become Bella Morelli's granddaughter-in-law. We will get married in June. I will quit my job and get ready to pop out little Cupcakes. We will name our first son Joseph. He will have dense curly chest hair; he will have a hairy butt. He will know how to smile at teenage girls; he will know how to write dirty poems on public bathroom walls. And my daughter will follow the neighborhood bad boy into his father's garage and lose her virginity on the hard bare floor.

Geez.

Eeeeeuw.

Unbreakable family curses.

I drop my pizza, grab my bag, bolt out of the chair and run for the door. Just because you can reproduce doesn't mean you should. It's time to put an end to the never-ending on-and-off story between me and Joe. The Earth is too crowded anyways.

And I am in love with my Mocha Latte man.


	46. 46 Years Old, Single, and Employed

**46 Years Old, Single, and Employed**

He went into the bar and ordered a beer. It was a hot humid day and he wasn't in a good mood. In fact, he was feeling depressed.

He hated his tedious job. He hated his routine life. He had started feeling old, and he hated his forced, tired smile.

He had no reason to smile. He was 46 years old but still single.

His mother had given up hopes. His Grandma had gone to Heaven. His elder brother was cheating on his sister-in-law again. He'd lost his dog years ago.

He and the woman he'd once loved were still not on speaking terms.

She sure knew how to hold grudges.

It'd been 10 years.

He missed her.

He still had feelings for her.

He ordered another beer. The cold bitterness sharpened his sorrows. The food here sucked, but he ordered a cheeseburger anyway.

He was too tired to find a decent diner. He was hungry but had no appetite. He hoped the greasy salty fries would help. They didn't. He almost laughed.

He'd thought his day couldn't get any worse. He bit into his dinner. He took another gulp of the beer. He had sold the ring. It was all Stephanie's fault.

She hadn't even turned around and said, "I'm sorry, Joe."

She hadn't even stopped. She'd run away like Hell. She'd dropped the last slice of her Pizza Margherita. She'd left him there kneeling on the floor.

And he had wanted to kill her, and then kill himself.

He'd calmed down eventually and decided to move on and let go, of course.

He had a life to live. He had a dream to chase. He had lost his love for cakes—cupcakes, to be exact. He had lost some hair and weight.

He was now 46 years old, and still single. He was now having a lousy cheeseburger for dinner inside a bar. No one was waiting for him at home.

He was 46 years old, and all alone.

He ate his cheeseburger and soggy flies. He finished his beer.

He paid his bill and tipped the waitress. He started singing softly to himself on the way home.

Once again he thought of Stephanie and all the what-ifs. Silently he laughed at himself and kept on singing:

"Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily. Life is but a dream."

He loved his voice.

 


	47. AK-47

**AK-47**

Stephanie trips and almost falls. Her face is pale and her breathing is short. Today is worse than a nightmare. She doubts if she can get away without a scratch. No. She knows she's not going to make it. She's so tired. She barely has any strength left. She doesn't have her gun with her and she has lost her phone somewhere. She feels helpless. She feels hopeless. And it seems she has just sprained her ankle. Tough luck, huh? Stephanie almost laughs. She tries her best to blink back her tears. Nope, she's not afraid of death. She knows everybody has to die someday. She just never thought one day she might die in this gruesome way.

A cold shiver creeps down her spine as she imagines the terror and the pain. She dares not think what is happening to her families and her friend. She didn't even have time to go back to her apartment and grab Rex. She knows she has to keep on running. She prays everyone is safe. Her ankle hurts like Hell but she bites her lips and keeps staggering on. She doesn't want to die. Not like this. Not today. Her footsteps sound way too loud in her ears. She has no idea where all the people went. She doesn't want to know what happened to them. She's hungry. She's thirsty. She needs a rest. She's running out of time. She's running out of strength. She needs a safe place to hide. She needs to find a weapon. She thinks of all the movies and TV series she's seen. She realizes her chance to survive on her own is slim.

"When the going gets tough, the tough get going." Stephanie murmurs to herself and tries her best to ignore the terrible smell in the air. Her stomach growls again. She puked out her lunch when Joyce's scream suddenly stopped. She never liked Joyce. But nobody deserves to die that way. A drop of tear falls down Stephanie's face. She has been running non stop ever since. She was lucky to get away. She's now trapped inside the mall, and she has to use the bathroom ASAP. Stephanie forces a smile on her face and wipes away her tears as she hustles toward the nearest bathroom.

At least she still has her shopping bags with her.

  
***To** **Be Continued***   



	48. Almost 48

**Almost 48**

The vast clean bathroom is eerily quiet. Stephanie tries her best to make as less noise as she can. Her ankle is now swollen. her mascara is a mess and she's still frightened. She desperately wants to be brave but is quickly losing hope. She keeps hearing Joyce's scream in her head. And it started as such a beautiful day. Business has been good this month and she caught all her skips. She totally deserved a trip to the new shopping mall. She heard the food court was great and the shoes were on sale. All she wanted was a little happiness. She did nothing wrong! She was fighting over a pair of sexy high heels with Joyce when the world suddenly turned into a living Hell. They both froze when the terrible smell hit their noses. They heard the shuffling sounds. They heard the groans. Their eyes widened with disbelief and their faces turned pale. They, as well as everyone else, started to scream.

Who the Hell knows zombies are real?

They just showed up from nowhere at all. They smelled horrible. They looked horrible. They took advantage of the chaos. She grabbed hold of the shoes and turned to ran. Joyce tried to snatch the shoes back and wouldn't let go. She caught sight of that extra gruesome zombie out of the corner of her eye. She let go and ran like Hell. And it didn't take long for Joyce's triumphant laughter to turn into scream of pain and terror. Around her people screamed. Around her zombies growled. From somewhere behind her someone screamed her name. From somewhere behind her someone screamed for help. She recognized that voice. But she just ran, and ran faster. She had to stop to puke out her lunch. She didn't stop to help Joyce. Now she doesn't even know if she can survive to survive the guilt—

Stephanie freezes on the toilet seat. The smell of a decomposing dead body invades the women's bathroom. The lurching footsteps and the inhuman groans soon follow. The zombie comes closer and closer. Stephanie covers her mouth with her hand and starts to shake all over. Tears race down her face like two rivers. She didn't get the shoes she wanted and she might have gotten Joyce killed. And now she's going to die the same way as Joyce. What will people say when they find her chewed up dead body here? Will they laugh? Will they sigh? Will they say a silent prayer and cross themselves? A terrified scream escapes Stephanie's lips as the zombie tears the locked door off the hinge. The hideous creature reaches out to grasp her and lets out a victorious roar. Suddenly its head explodes. Stephanie sits there, on the toilet, watching the zombie fall into a pile of decomposing flesh and bones. She wants to puke but there's nothing left in her stomach. She looks up slowly and lets out a sob. She has never been so happy in her life before.

And she falls in love with Ranger all over again.

  
***To** **Be Continued***   



	49. Definitely 49

**Definitely 49**

"But I just bought them!" Stephanie clutches her shopping bags tight to her chest and almost bursts into tears.

"Babe,"Ranger sighs, suddenly wanting very much to kiss her quivering lips. "They will slow you down."

"But...but..." But she has fought teeth and claws for all those half price shoes and lingerie and literally torn them away from other women's evil clutches. And she has come this far...

With his free arm Ranger pulls Stephanie against him, his eyes dark and bright with amusement and desire, his lips barely an inch away from hers. "I'll buy you a ring."

"Huh?" She's curious and hot and bothered. He looks like sin in all black combat gears. The badass military style gun suits him. She can't wait to let the heat of his body engulf her...

"A diamond ring." Ranger whispers against her lips.

Stephanie's eyes widen.

She drops her bags.

All 6 of them.

Ranger kisses her briefly and passionately, and guns down another zombie without even looking.


	50. Fifty-Fifty

**Fifty-Fifty**

Jealousy.

Envy.

Resentment so strong that he almost pukes.

Joe Morelli grabs hold of his gun and clenches his teeth.

If Ranger can kick his way into the mall and shoot down zombies like The Rock in  ** _Doom_** , so can he.

He ignores the SWAT team's shouting.

He gags at the foul smell of decomposing meat.

This time he will outshine Ranger.

This time he will rescue Stephanie.

This time he will prove his love and the whole goddamn world can shut up, fuck off, and mind their own fucking business.

He's the one and only hero of this not so funny love story.

He will make sure there's a Cupcake HEA. And Ranger can go rot away all alone in some God-forsaken place.

He charges into the door and breathes through his mouth.

He chooses a different direction from Ranger and his thugs.

He runs into a mob of zombies in front of Victoria's Secret and starts shooting.

He soon runs out of bullets.

He turns and runs like Hell.

He trips over a pair of a bloody sexy high heels and falls into a pool of sticky blood.

He tries to stand up but slips again, again, and again.

The hungry zombies catch up with him.

He doesn't even have time to scream...

Then like thunder the gunshots sound.

Tall calm muscular men in all black combat gears come out of nowhere, gun down all the zombies and save his life.

One of them casts a glance at the Glock 17 in his trembling hand and almost smiles.

All of a sudden he just wants to die.

God. How he hates his life...

 


	51. Plus 51

**Plus 51**

The ring around her finger. Twinkling diamonds. Beautiful sapphire. 5th Avenue. All the way to New York. Tiffany.

It's nice being rich.

They are going to get married this Halloween.

He wants to smile but ends up grimacing.

His lovely cozy 2-story house is still cozy and lovely.

His big orange playful drooling dog is snoring peacefully on the chewed up couch.

He is but himself.

It's 12:13 early Sunday morning.

The Red Sox has just beat up the Yankees.

He lost Stephanie.

And he still has nightmares about the zombies.


	52. Shady 52

**Shady 52**

"Shut up!" He shouted. But the infant kept crying. He closed his eyes and clenched his jaw. His murderous rage rose and boiled deep within. He had to find a way to terminate the shrill noise. He had no love for this little creature. He was tempted to do something extreme. But he also wanted to prolong the game. He wanted to enjoy the whole experience. He wanted to laugh his ass off while everyone else was drowned in tears. Maybe he would even call and ask for a ransom. Maybe he would let them think they could have the little brat back. How would they react when they found he was never interested in the money? Would they drop to their knees and repent their sins? Would they get down on all fours and beg for his forgiveness?

_Too late_. He would tell them.  _Too late._ He would tell them the child was dead and laughed in their faces. He would tell them payback was a bitch and there was always a price to pay. He would kindly ask them how they felt. Would they spend the rest of their lives in each other's arms afterward? He guessed the answer would be no. They wouldn't be able to look each other in the eyes. They would constantly live in shame and pain and fear. The overwhelming guilt would be too much to bear. It was all their fault. They got their baby killed. It was all their fault.

He let out a sharp bark of laughter. The ugly monkey-like little creature wailed louder. "Shut up!" He shouted again. He'd never thought it would be this easy, though. No one had spotted him when he'd sneaked in through the back door. No one had stopped him when he'd grabbed the brat from the crib. No one had come after him when he'd jumped into his car and driven all the way here. No one knew he owned this place. No one knew he was smart. No one knew he was calm. No one knew he craved for revenge. This was the moment he had been waiting for. One quick with his hands and the crying would stop. He knew the perfect place to get rid of the tiny limp corpse. They would never find it. He knew how to keep a secret. He would keep his secret well. He stood over the squirming baby. He reached out his hands. Calm, cold, and composed. Steady, powerful, and firm.  _Just do it, Joe. Get rid of the mistake. Erase all the traces. And walk away, like a boss._ He smiled his cruel arrogant smile. He felt the small child's warmth. Do it!  _Just do it! NOW!_

All the windows shattered. All the doors fell down. Men in full combat gear swarmed in from every direction. Men clad in black from head to toe aimed their guns at him. He felt a little confused. He didn't hear any siren. He'd heard nothing, nothing at all. He wasn't going to give up, though. He would fight to the last breath, though. He had to do something. He had to do anything. He had to try. His hot boiling anger was eating him up. He tightened his grip on the child's neck. He would snap it in two in a blink of an eye. Yeah, he was a monster, a man wronged by the woman he loved, a man who couldn't stand the loneliness and the ridicule. It was her choice! It wasn't his fault!

The air changed. His hands froze. The familiar tall dark handsome Mocha Latte man materialized in front of him and held the child tight. The color of the man's eyes was darker than the darkest night. The cold fury radiating off that muscular perfect body was sharper than a stab of a sharpest knife. For the first time in a long long time he felt the fear. He tried to laugh and shrug it off. He wanted to scream and shout and let it all out. Like Britney Spears and Will. i. am. . He wanted to sing on top of his lungs and tell the whole world they were all fucking mad. Madder than the Mad Hatter. Madder than a drunk Mel Gibson. He opened his mouth but couldn't make a sound. He saw the knife in the Mocha Latte hand. He saw the fire in those bright blue eyes. The eyes he'd once loved so much. The eyes that had him under a spell. An unbreakable spell. He cringed as he saw the gun in the slender white hand. _Cupcake,_  he wanted to say, _Cupcake. Don't you love me any more?_ His heart and soul shattered as the silent bullet hit its target. His anger, regret, dream, hope, illusion and delusion slipped out along with his dying life. The pain within his chest was too much to ignore. Slowly the gaping hole swallowed him whole. A soundless desperate scream escaped his throat—

Joe Morelli jerks awake, bathed in cold sweat, with his heart hammering in his bare hairy chest. Beside him the naked blonde woman snores on like a train. They are going to get married in 6 weeks. The diamond ring around her finger cost a big chunk of his savings. They are happy. He's happy. Yes, he is. He's going to be a father in 5 months. Terry has already quit her job and her uncle Vito has given them his blessing. His mother and Grandma Bella are overjoyed. He tries his best not to think of Stephanie. But still, from time to time, he dreams of her. The darkness within scares the shit out of him.

And he feels sick of himself.

 


	53. Hot And Bothered 53

**Hot And Bothered 53**

She cannot sleep. She sits up and gazes into the not so dark darkness. The weather is nice tonight. She can actually feel the breeze. She looks down and sees her engagement ring. A ring of small diamonds and a modest sapphire. It's been months now but still nothing feels real. She knows it's not a dream. He didn't get down on his knee. He didn't say anything. He just took hold of her hand, and then slipped on the ring. She widened her eyes. Everybody inside Pino's held their breath.

The ring is a perfect fit.

He gave her his almost smile, and seal their engagement with a kiss. He then jumped on a plane and flew away to save the world. No one's heard from him since. No one says it in her face. But she knows they believes he is dead. Somewhere. Out there. In a nameless place. A gunshot wound on his head. A knife wound from ear to ear. Blast into zillions tiny pieces. Nobody says a word. No one tells a thing. She's too afraid to ask.

She's been having meaningless dreams.

She moved back to her old apartment. Someone changed her locks. Someone left the keys. She has too much money in her bank. There's always food in her fridge. She doesn't need to work. She has no reason to get out of bed. Someone is taking care of Rex right now. She's still trying to find an excuse to live. No. She's not afraid of death. She's scared of this loneliness. This numbness. This sadness. She's tired of her tears.  _Where are you?_  She wanna ask.  _Please come back._  She wanna plead.

"I love you." She whispers to the empty darkness. She doesn't even have a photo to remember him with.

Just the other day she slapped Joe Morelli. With all her strength. The hope in those eyes angered her. The smile on his face made her sick. She's not talking to her mother. She's not talking to her friends. The day Grandma came over and hugged her tight, she cried. Night after night she wakes up from her sleep and turns on the bedside light. But he isn't here. It's just the wind. It's just her memories. It's just her wistful wish. His chair remains empty. She lets out a sob and wraps her arms around his pillow. She still remembers the warmth of his hands the day he took hold of her hand and slipped on the beautiful ring. It's a Tiffany.

It's a promise he failed to keep.

  
***To** **Be Continued***   



	54. Frisky 54

 

 

 

**Frisky 54**

She twists and turns in her restless sleep.

The man beside her drew her close to his warm muscular body. She never liked the winter rain. Her hands and feet were cold, and he still didn't do relationship. His daughter was smart. His ex-wife was pretty. His family still lived in New Jersey. He didn't exactly have a life, he'd once told her. He worked too hard. He ate too healthy. His love wouldn't come with a ring. She nestled in his arms listening to his heartbeat. She almost fell asleep. He lived a simple complicated life. He probably had tons of dangerous enemies. She felt safe whenever he was near. It didn't really matter if she was still in her unhealthy relationship. She had gotten out of her narrow queen size bed and come to him. All of a sudden she wanted a baby. A tiny little boy, with silky smooth hair, and eyes just like his.

"Someday," He said, and kissed her on the lips.

_Someday?_  She pondered as the kiss grew deep and her heart skipped a beat.  _Tricky..._

She knew he was going away for a couple weeks. His price was high. His schedule was tight. He was richer than most people believed. He was a mercenary, a smart opportunist. He always had to do the right thing. It was almost like he had OCD. A modest hero. A shady warrior. The man of her dream. She didn't really want a ring. She wanted his love. She wanted his heart. She wanted to be free. She wanted to grow a pair of wings. She wrapped herself around him and closed her eyes. She lost herself in his heat. And when she woke up the next morning, he was still there, by her side. That was when she told him she loved him. The light is his eyes was brighter than the sun.

She wakes up from her sleep. His chair is empty. She can't find him in her dreams. Dawn is breaking. Her fingers find her engagement ring. She no longer has tears.

  
***To** **Be Continued***  



	55. Darkness 55

 

**Darkness 55**

Dead men don't talk.

Nor do they lie.

He smells the death in the air. He doesn't smile. He's not numb. His hair is longer. He's using a different name. He's not far away from the woman he loves. But he can't go back to her. Not yet. He has a game to play. A dangerous game. Traps to sabotage. Enemies to eliminate. Traitors. Liars. Greedy bastards. Shameless rats.

He turns to look at the silent man. It is well past midnight, still his friend keeps his pale eyes hidden behind a pair of sunglasses. They've known each other for years. They are both supposed to be dead. Together they will set things straight. Their friends have been guarding their backs.

He's glad Stephanie is safe.

  
***To** **Be Continued***   



	56. Grey 56

**Grey 56**

_Put your heart in the right place. Keep your lips sealed. Make a little sacrifice. Do it for the greater good._

_Turn your head the other way while we deal with the problem at hand._

The man smiles his warm, pleasant smile as he kisses his lovely wife. The man tries not to laugh out loud as his happy family watches another episode of  **Game Of Thrones**. _The point is to win the game, you fools. The point is to think ahead of everyone. The point is always to be in control. The point is to do whatever has to be done. Even if you have to tell a thousand lies. Even if you have to kill 10 thousand innocent lives. Even if someone else has to pay the price. Your only task is to be the ultimate winner, and stay alive. The casualty of war is nothing compared to the glory, the prize, and the thrill. History is the story we want you to hear._  That's why he made up his mind to make the necessary cuts and have the loose ends tied. What can he say? He likes his job. He enjoys keeping his country and his fellow people safe.  _Sometimes it's better not to know everything, darling. Trust me. I did it for your own good. We won't be answering any questions today. No comment._

It's been almost a year since the unfortunate incident. The man knows how to keep his secrets. He never likes to have his authority challenged. He sleeps well. Everybody is dispensable. His job is to keep the great machine moving. Toward the direction he desires. He's content to be the hand behind the scene. He doesn't even have to worry about upset voters.  _Nope, you can't please everyone, but you can have them wrapped around your finger as long as you know all their little dirty secrets. Shameless politicians. Greedy bastards. Loyal soldiers. Useful tools._ The man goes upstairs to his study. He has some work to do. He's been hearing rumours. There have been several deaths. The man won't admit it openly, but he does feel a little uneasy. Even if he and his family are guarded by armed government agents.  _No. There's nothing to worry about._  The man sits down behind his desk and firmly tells himself.  _Have a little faith._ Everything worked as planned. All the obstacles have been removed. Dead men remain dead. Ghosts pose no threats. From now on he will have endless supply of highly-trained killing machines at his disposal. He has sent the message loud and clear—

The man's smile freezes on his face. His eyes widen. He tries his best to remain calm as he presses the emergency button. He doesn't personally know the two men who have just silently stepped out of the darkness, but he recognizes their faces. The faces belong to two dead men. He doesn't make a sound when the bullet tears through his heart. He wants to laugh at himself. So Karma is indeed a bitch. There really is a price to pay. The emergency button has been deactivated. His family never knows what happen. His guards are still alive but unconscious. He dies with his eyes wide open. All his little dirty secrets are posted on the internet the very next day.

The tall dark long-haired handsome man and his silent friend exchange nods as they head separate ways.

The man in a colorful Hawaiian shirt gently pats the ugly black cat on his head. It has been a long lonely night for the both of them.

The blue-eyed wild-haired woman unlocks the door of the empty 7th-floor apartment. She can no longer sleep in her narrow queen size bed. She has to be here. She knows she's not being brave. She just wants to pretend everything is still the same. She just wants to pretend he's still here, he's somewhere out there, he will be back, he's still alive...

  
***To** **Be Continued***   



	57. 57

**57**

It must be a dream. She sighs and snuggles closer with her eyes closed.

It must be the wine. She melts into the warmth and finds the familiar lips. Yeah, she drank the whole bottle of the fine red wine before crawling into bed. For the world didn't feel the same without him. And she desperately wanted to stop feeling so cold and so lonely.

It must be a trick her mind is playing. It must be her memories. Of hopes. Love. And happiness...

_Be brave, Stephanie._

She opens her eyes.

She doesn't burst into tears.

She likes his hair long.

She always knows he's a man of secrets.

She knows he must have a good reason.

Still she feels the relief and the sudden anger.

How she wants to slap him.

In stead she places her hand flat on his chest. He has a new scar on his shoulder. His heart is beating.

She wants to say something. Something funny. Something angry. Something romantic. Something. Anything.

Words fail her.

It's been almost a year. His heart is still beating. She's still wearing her engagement ring.

She's in need of too many answers.

She's not sure how she should feel.

She looks him into his eyes.

She loves his calm quiet almost black eyes.

"I'm sorry." He softly says.

She still loves him.

**~The End~**


End file.
